


Embracing the Swarm

by GhostRacha



Series: Love and Paint [3]
Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bad Parenting, Bittersweet, Bottom Han Jisung | Han, Complete, Conflict, Conflict Resolution, Conversion Therapy (mentioned), Day At The Beach, Emotional, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Smut, Everything Hurts, Falling In Love, Fanfiction, Fluff and Angst, Friendship/Love, Han Jisung | Han & Lee Felix are Best Friends, Han Jisung | Han is Whipped, Healing, Humor, Hurts So Good, Hwang Hyunjin is a Sweetheart, I Made Myself Cry, Idiots in Love, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Inner Dialogue, Inspired by Music, Lee Felix (Stray Kids) is a Sweetheart, Lee Minho | Lee Know is Whipped, Lee Minho | Lee Know-centric, M/M, Mentioned Bang Chan, Playlist, Really light smut, Reconciliation, Reunited and It Feels So Good, Road Trips, Roommates, Seo Changbin is Whipped, Seo Changbin is a sweetheart, Sequel, Slow Burn, Sorry Not Sorry, Therapy, Trauma, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, Wordcount: 30.000-50.000, brief mentions of self harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:28:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 43,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25960597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GhostRacha/pseuds/GhostRacha
Summary: "Minho hadn’t imagined it - Han had talked to him as he fell unconscious in the attic. He had really answered, and apparently, had called Minho a total of 24 times during the two days his phone had been left dead at his house.Something in him stirred at the knowledge - was Han home? Does he know that he stayed and waited for him? Minho didn’t want to think about it too much."-----The truth comes out, and many relationships are at stake because of it. Can Minho forgive and forget? Can he move past his own fears? What if Han leaves again?(Sequel to Into the Hornet's Nest.)
Relationships: Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know, Lee Felix/Seo Changbin
Series: Love and Paint [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1772032
Comments: 60
Kudos: 51





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [awhippedrobot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/awhippedrobot/gifts).



> Hello! I did tag most of the iffy parts of this story but please be advised, there is a lot of inner conflict for everyone involved in this story and the parts they've played.  
> This book focuses on how these characters choose to better themselves, but no one succeeds on the first try. There are two more detailed scenes of therapy sessions, I took some gathered info and tried to make them as accurate as possible since I have personally very little experience. I will gladly make a few changes if they seem inaccurate! 
> 
> There are also mentions of homophobia and conversion therapy - nothing too detailed but please mind the warnings. 
> 
> As expected, there is a playlist and pinterest board for this second installment. (In Notes at the bottom! Please check them out, this series has come to mean a lot to me and I personally made it as it was written.) 
> 
> With a heavy heart and red eyes, I proudly present to you: the end of Love and Paint. (Details about the spin off also in the ending notes.)

The sun is uncomfortably warm on Minho’s skin, the doctors having told him to wear long sleeves and avoid sun exposure on his healing hives. He hates how the fabric rubs against him, how it only makes him feel even warmer. In the hospital, if there was one thing he had been thankful for (other than the people who had saved his life,) it had been the air conditioning against his sensitive, recovering body. Even though his door is only a few more steps away, the heat makes him feel as if he’s running a marathon just to reach his porch steps. 

His stay in the hospital had been relatively pleasant, actually, minus the discomfort of healing. Hyunjin and Changbin had come to see him once he was able to get in touch with them. One of Minho’s nurses had actually been Hyunjin’s mother, making Minho grateful for staying in such a small town where you knew five people in extension of one. Thanks to this, Hyunjin’s mother had relayed Minho’s condition to him - by extension, Changbin - and the boys had kept him company as well as bringing him his phone which the EMTs had left next to the drying puddle of Minho’s stomach contents. When he had charged his phone back to life, all three of them had been shocked by the amount of missed calls. Well, the number of them wasn’t the surprising part. Who had been calling him, was. Minho had nearly scared the nurses to death by the way his heart monitor had spiked, Minho feeling far too much at once for the nurses’ liking. Minho hadn’t imagined it - Han had talked to him as he fell unconscious in the attic. He had really answered, and apparently, had called Minho a total of 24 times during the two days his phone had been left dead at his house. 

Something in him stirred at the knowledge - was Han home? Does he know that he stayed and waited for him? Minho didn’t want to think about it too much, his brain still far too focused on locking his door and stripping his shirt off as soon as possible. He makes his way to his room, sighing and sitting on the edge of his bed, phone in hand. He wants so badly to call Han back, to let him know that he’s home and okay. Something stops him; he isn’t sure if it’s nerves or the fact that part of him is still upset at Han’s leaving. He feels like this may all still be fake somehow, that he’s delusional and imagining the red highlighted name on his call logs. So, he sets his phone on his nightstand instead. He lays on top of his blankets, willing himself to sleep partially because of his aching body and partially to see if the calls will still be here when he wakes up.    


After a few days of forced bed rest, forced only because of Hyunjin and Changbin texting him to make sure he’s staying indoors, Minho has become antsy. Laying in bed without even knowing if Han is home has officially become too much. He had tried to call Hyunjin earlier, the boy’s phone either off or dead. Minho assumed he was in class, so he had waited until 6pm when he knew Hyunjin usually arrives home. So, he begrudgingly slides a long sleeved shirt over his soon to be sweaty body and makes his way to his truck. Minho can’t remember the last time he had driven it - he’s sure it was to the shared apartment of Hyunjin and Changbin, but it seems so long ago at this point that it feels foriegn to buckle his seatbelt. Foreign and painful, thanks to the tender skin being harshly pressed against it. He had texted Changbin, his response telling him to stay home and stay safe, but nonetheless meaning that at least he is home. Minho starts the familiar drive, letting the wind cool him and the music calm him. He needs to talk to someone, anyone, about Han. He needs to get out all of his confusion, his fears, and frankly; his nerves. He just needs to talk. The boys had suggested Minho keep a journal once the last letter came, and admittedly it had worked for a while. It was nice to vent when he had isolated himself from his friends, quickly becoming half full of messy expressions of how sad he is and how angry he is at everything that happened. It wasn’t helpful now, though, now that he knows Han is still a person and still remembers him. He had tried to write in it after Hyunjin didn’t answer, but he has far too much pent up emotion to just write into a book that can’t console him. Minho supposes that that’s how Han felt, writing to him without even knowing if he would receive them and knowing that even if he did he couldn’t get a response. The thought made Minho’s stomach twist, the memory of everything Han had been forced to go through without him being there made him feel entirely guilty for not looking hard enough, even though he had tried so hard to find him. Minho wouldn’t know what to do if his parents had disowned him like Han’s had, much less the loss of a loved one coming in and making the situation that much worse. So, Minho pulls into the parking spot he always does, locking his car twice and hurrying into the apartment complex. He feels so conflicted now that Han has tried to reach out to him, and Hyunjin knows Han. Hyunjin knows Han enough to be able to properly console Minho, and the fact that Hyunjin and Han are so similar may be nice as a sort of test drive scenario. 

Minho comes up to the door, knocking his tune of four taps to let the others know who is at the door. He hears a lot of shuffling, the door slowly opening after a moment of assumed scrambling. Minho’s lip is already shaking at the sight of Hyunjin, who is in a grey hoodie and white shirt, pajama pants contrasting against the neutral tones. His black hair is a mess as if he just came from the shower, and his full lips fall into a pout at seeing Minho so ready to cry. Hyunjin glances behind him, calling for Binnie to come to the door. Minho feels a bit shy, standing in the hallway and being blocked from the door while the first tears fall, Changbin immediately furrowing his eyebrows sympathetically once he sees him. Changbin is in sweats and a tank top, his angular face already leaning and his arms already outstretched for Minho to find himself between them, wrapping loosely around his torso to avoid agitation. 

“Hyung,” Hyunjin says sadly, stepping into the hall and raking a hand through Minho’s hair. Minho leans into the touch automatically, wishing his inflamed skin would allow for the two of them to hold him tightly in one of their signature bone-crushing hugs.   
“Can we go inside?” Minho sniffles against Changbin’s chest, the two boys sharing a look Minho can’t quite place. They look at each other for a moment, Hyunjin eventually nodding and ushering the boys in while Minho continues to cling to Changbin’s arm. “I’m sorry if I’m interrupting anything.” Minho says sadly, not wanting to become a bother to the others. Changbin shushes him gently, sitting the two of them on the couch and motioning for Hyunjin to sit with them. Minho is comfortably sat between his two best friends, Hyunjin turning sideways with his long legs laid across Minho’s thighs, one arm propped up by the couch for him to continue running his slender fingers through Minho’s shaggy looking dark hair. Changbin is letting Minho lean against his shoulder, one arm wrapped around his shoulder and rubbing soothing circles with his thumb. God, he loves them. He loves this, feeling so encompassed in their compassion while he rambles his scrambled thoughts on the situation. They listen to him try to collect his jumbled thoughts; how he almost doesn’t want to contact Han until he can collect himself. How he knows that seeing Han may cause him to freak out, but he doesn’t know exactly what that means. He talks about how not seeing him in so long makes him feel like Han is a ghost, that he’s afraid of his reaction now that he isn’t actively dying and will be able to fully process what’s going on. And they listen intently, nodding along and throwing in bits of encouragement whenever Minho’s tears cause his brain to scramble off track and allow the boys to whisper confidence back into his speech. They listen so intently in fact that none of them hear keys in the door, nor the knob turning and the soft pad of footsteps or the shuffling of someone taking off their shoes. Minho wipes his puffy face, the boys having consoled him well enough for the tears to stop and the ache to be replaced with relief. This is why he loves them. 

Hyunjin looks across the room, his smile falling immediately and his eyes widening. Minho doesn’t notice that he’s gone quiet, nor the flick of his hand behind the couch. What he does notice is the way Changbin notices Hyunjin, Minho turning to look at Hyunjin before looking to where he is looking. He really shouldn’t have looked.   
Standing there like a deer in headlights, his wide eyes immediately locking with Minho, is Han Jisung. Sure, his hair is some sort of pinky-orange color, his hands are full of groceries and his skin is more of a caramel color than Minho may remember, but it is Han.  
Changbin and Hyunjin pull away from Minho, standing tentatively between the two of them but not breaking their line of sight, Minho staring at the boy staring at him without moving. Hell, Minho isn’t even sure he’s breathing right now. He feels the sting of tears returning, feels the ache in his chest instantly dipping into his stomach and making him feel sick.   
“Hyung,” Han whispers, guilt and fear evident in the way his voice shakes.   
“Hyung,” Hyunjin mimics, stepping to break Minho’s stare. Minho looks up at him, his throat almost as tight as when he had been stung. “I can explain.” Minho glares at him, standing abruptly and shoving Hyunjin roughly away from him.   
“He’s been living here, hasn’t he?” Minho bites out, venom lacing the progressively raising voice. “You’ve had him here!” Minho shouts, yanking his shoulder away when Changbin tries to rest his hand on it. “No! How long?” Minho asks, tightening his jaw when Hyunjin only looks down in shame.   
“Minho,” Changbin tries, his voice soft and close to him. Minho whips his head to glare at him now, tears flowing despite nothing but rage pumping through him at the moment. “It’s been awhile.”   
“How fucking long is awhile?” Minho asks, his voice breaking. His breathing is getting shorter with every breath, his fists clenched at his sides. Hyunjin moves to stand beside Changbin, half in front of him to take whatever blow Minho may decide to deliver. “How long?” Minho screams at them, his body hunching just enough to give away how weak his legs feel.  
“Two months,” Han says quietly, Minho now looking at him. Two months? Months? Minho’s anger mixes quickly with despair, a choked sob passing his lips.   
“You were here before I got stung?” Minho asks, Han nodding and setting the bags down to move closer. Minho backs away from him. “You were thirty minutes away while I was suffocating!” He screams, hiccuping and beginning to pace. “You didn’t visit! All you did was fucking call!” He faces Han, a finger roughly pointing at the boy before raking his hands through his hair roughly. This can’t be happening.   
“We knew you weren’t ready,” Hyunjin tries, touching Minho’s shoulder lightly and getting shoved away again. Hyunjin stumbles away, Changbin loosely catching him and standing him upright again.   
“I _wasn’t ready?”_ Minho mocks, scoffing and glaring at the three of them.   
“You just said so yourself, Minho. You didn’t know how you would react…” Changbin says, defeated tone making itself evident.   
“I would have handled it a lot fucking better if the people who were meant to be my friends had at least fucking told me he was _back._ ” Minho snaps, backing away from all three of them now. “I’m leaving.” He says, moving around Hyunjin and Changbin, moving quickly to the door only to have it be blocked by Han. They are so close. So, so close, and Minho can only stare. Han is in front of him again. Han, the Han he has missed for over a year; the Han who had talked to him over the phone rather than rushing to his aid as he lay dying. “Move.” Minho says, his stare far more intimidating while filled with anger rather than excitement of seeing the boy he’s wanted for so long.   
“Minho,” Han says, his eyes watering. Minho has to look away. “Can we please just t-”   
“Get the fuck away from me. Let me out.” Minho cuts him off, Hyunjin coming behind him and nodding sadly for Han to step aside. Minho scoffs. “As soon as I throw myself into hiding.” He says it to himself more than any of the others, turning to look Hyunjin in the face. “You listened to me for hours about missing him, and you told me to stay home.” Minho looks at Changbin, whose head is hung and whose arms are crossed over his chest.   
“I missed you too, hyung.” Han says weakly, standing beside the door rather than in front of it now. Minho looks at him, his eyebrows furrowed and his lip trembling. He sniffles, blinking away tears and looking away from Han. Minho opens the door and leaves the apartment, slamming the door behind him and leaving the others without so much as a second glance. 

Han rushes to the bathroom, gripping his stomach and quickly emptying it into the toilet. Han cries, Hyunjin and Changbin follow in to rub his back and comfort him.   
“I said his name.” Han cries, gagging because of how heavily he’s breathing. The boys just nod in silence.   
“Do you want us to explain?” Changbin asks, wetting a towel in preparation for Han to be done. Han shakes his head, knowing that he is the one who hurt him and so he should be the one to talk to him. The boys nod, Changbin wiping Han’s face as he sits back on his heels. Han is grateful for the gentle touches, his heart mending the tiniest bit at the kindness.   
“I’ll get him to talk to me.” Han says, rubbing his eyes to rid himself of the stinging tears. “I’ll just… go alone, if you don’t mind.” Han says sheepishly, glancing between the boys while they give him a hesitant look. “I’m doing better, guys, honest,” Han says, flushing away his sickness. “I just… I forgot I can’t say his name.” Changbin nods, looking at Hyunjin.   
“He’ll be okay.” Changbin says, Hyunjin giving him the same apprehensive look. “Hyunjin, it’s okay.” Hyunjin looks between them, sighing and helping lift Han to his feet.   
“Han, just wear a jacket when you go.” Hyunjin says. Han gives him a questioning look before realization dawns his face, giving him a nod as a thank you for reminding him. “He lives in the same place. We’ll drop you off.” Hyunjin says, readying himself while Changbin grabs Han’s hoodie along with his own. 


	2. Chapter 2

The ride over is almost too familiar, as if it hasn't been a year since the last time Han has made the trip. The sun has already dipped past the trees as they near the house, Han taking the chance to breathe in the summer air he had missed so much and to let it calm his nerves to the best of its ability. Han had known that he would need to explain in due time, and knew that sooner or later, Minho deserved a lengthy apology along with a proper explanation. Han just hadn't expected it to come so abruptly after seeing him again. He hadn’t wanted things to go so poorly, understanding why it had but nonetheless wishing he could have had the chance to give Minho the reunion he so desperately deserved.   
When Changbin, Han and Hyunjin pull into the driveway, Han’s eyes begin to water again at the sight of so many blooming roses, the faint light of the fading sun also showing him where the old swing has been restored and how the house seems to call him inside. Han exits the car quickly, telling the boys to just leave him here, knowing that no matter how upset Minho is, he would never let Han go home in the dark. He hopes that that hasn’t changed, at least. Changbin, being in the driver’s seat, hushes Hyunjin’s attempt to protest; waving a goodnight to Han and leaving the driveway before Hyunjin has the chance to exit the car, as well.   
Han walks up to the door with shaky steps, turning the knob of the door and smiling lightly to himself at the way Minho still neglects to lock his door. 

“Hyung?” Han calls as he opens the door, only one light shining in the living room. Han walks in slowly, shutting and locking the door before making his way around the house and ogling at the comfort surrounding him. It feels right to be back here, to be looking for Minho and to see the way Minho has made the house his own while he had waited for Han to come home.

Han turns the lights off wherever Minho is not, making his way into the bedroom and frowning when he doesn’t find the boy there, either. Han reluctantly sneaks up to the attic, scanning over the family photos Minho had hung and hearing strained sniffles as he reaches the top of the stairs. Han frowns, not seeing the fort they had made and instead seeing a very lonely looking Minho with a drink in hand. Han sighs. 

“Hyung,” Han tries again, slowly making his way to sit beside him on the small couch they have shared countless times when things had been okay. “You really  _ should  _ lock your door, you know.” Han smiles at him sadly, Minho just nodding, giving him a heartless chuckle and staring at the half empty bottle. 

“I didn’t want to lock it in case you came home when I was out.” Minho says passively, Han feeling his heart drop at the words.  _ Sweet of him.  _ “I couldn’t let myself lock it.” Minho sniffles again, looking up at Han with red and puffy eyes, flushed cheeks and hair that has definitely been raked though recently. Han stares at him for a moment, wanting to see Minho for so long had given him a sort of expectation as to how it would go. Seeing him like this, though, makes him regret not coming straight here to begin with even if it had been best at the time. 

“I came to explain… everything, I guess.” Han says softly, wanting so badly to reach out and hold the so-broken looking boy before him. Minho just nods again, setting down his drink. Han smiles gently at that. Minho has always given his full attention. The thought makes his stomach flutter. Minho turns his body to face Han on the couch, pulling his legs up to cross them beneath him and lean an arm against the back of the couch. It’s so casual, Han almost feels like he isn’t apologizing for being gone. Despite his clearly upset state, Minho seems comfortable at the promise of Han’s reasoning. 

“You talk, I’ll listen.” Minho hums at him, rubbing his eye with the back of his hand before returning his head to his knuckles as he leans against the couch again. Han smiles softly at him, glad that Minho treats him almost just as he had before. Minho lets one corner of his mouth twitch up as well, the memory of their last ‘serious’ talk having been so much lighter than the one they’re about to have. 

“So…” Han starts, his voice already shaking from having to relive everything that had happened. “I’ll give you the basics.” Minho nods, assuming there must be a lot that happened in the past year. “Honey had been sick. She needed treatment.” Han let’s his eyes flicker away while blinking back tears. He misses her every day. “When my parents found out, they both came. I assume you knew that.” Han says, vaguely gesturing to the house as a way of saying ‘ _ I sent the letters here.’ _ Minho nods with a small frown. He remembers getting those letters all too well, despite the times when he wished he didn’t. “Right. So,” Han thinks for a moment, trying to filter through everything he knows Minho would know and working to only fill in the blanks. “They sent me to a therapist when Honey died. I didn’t know at first, but I realized that it wasn’t really… a normal practice.” Han glances up, tears beginning to fall when he sees Minho looking at him with such soft eyes. Eyes that still care. Minho tilts his head a bit, telling him silently to continue. “They tried to, uh,” Han sniffles, bringing the sleeve of his hoodie to wipe his eyes. “I guess they didn’t accept me like she had asked. It was some sort of conversion place.” Han mumbles, Minho’s face switching to anger as soon as his ears fully process the quiet words. Minho bites his tongue, though, needing to hear the rest. “I realized that and knew I needed to get out of there so…” Han lets his thoughts take over, tears falling freely as he subconsciously pulls his sleeves over his hands. “I made them turn me over to a real mental health place. They had to undo a lot of the shit they put in my head, m-“ Han cuts himself off, seeming to choke back a gagging sound. Minho softens again, concerned that Han hadn’t been ready to tell him. Minho inches closer to Han, his eyes trained on his sleeves. 

“Han Jisung…” Minho breathes, his own tears forming now. “Did you..” Minho can’t make himself say the words, Han letting his head fall with a sad nod; his arms moving to cross over his chest as a defense against any questions to see the still healing wounds beneath his sleeves. Minho takes the hint, nodding and looking down as well. 

“I couldn’t take any mail because I was so afraid they’d use it against me, Hyung. I can’t-“ Han sniffles, looking at Minho with pleading eyes. “Hearing and saying your name...I started to get physically ill.” Han let’s out a soft sob, burying his face into his own chest and letting himself curl into a ball; hugging his knees. Minho can’t make himself look up. “I still need therapy.” Han cries, muffled through the clothes. “I wanted to wait until I could say your name again to see you. I puked after you left. I tried so hard not to, Hyung, I swear!” Han shakes against himself, letting himself struggle to breathe through his clogged nose and gasping for air as he cries, instead. Han feels a gentle hand on his arm. He looks up, just to make sure it’s real; that Minho is actually touching him right now and actively showing him he cares if even in a small way. Han cries, still, but a smile makes its way onto his face at the way Minho is lightly touching him. The smile grows when he feels Minho squeeze his arm just enough to feel through the thick fabric of his hoodie, Minho looking up at him and giving him a tight-lipped smile as a ‘ _thanks for letting me touch you.’_ _  
_ “So you got released and left?” Minho asks, trying to fill in the rest of the story so Han doesn’t have to. Han nods, lightly sliding his hand over Minho’s still-squeezing one. Both of them are trying so hard to feel grounded, to feel as if this is all real and not one of their many dreams they’ve unfortunately woken up from when they had been apart. Minho doesn’t say anything at the gesture, but glances at Han’s hand over his and lets his already flushed face deepen in color. If he had had any more to drink, Minho would have worried that it was fake or at least not Han he was talking to. He’s glad he had cut back when he did, not knowing what he would do if Han had come to him while he was drunk. He doesn’t let himself linger on it. Han, however, is lingering on the feeling of their hands together. Sure, in the past they had kissed and even gotten a bit carried away at one point, but something as small as this hadn’t really happened. Han is almost glad for it, loving the way it feels to have their skin resting together so sweetly for the first time. It makes his heart flutter in a way he hasn’t felt in a long time, making him completely zone out Minho’s question.   
Minho notices the way Han is looking at their hands, his tears no longer flowing over wet cheeks. He notices Han’s faint smile, so he accepts his silence and leaves it at that. He isn’t sure how much more he can take regarding Han going through so much at the moment, anyway. Minho wants to do so much more than this; he wants to hug all of Han’s broken pieces back together and act as his glue. He wants to kiss him on the head and tell him that he’s safe now, that nothing bad will happen to him if he has any say in it. He wants to confess his love all over again; tell him that he only stayed in town in case of his return. Tell him that he had to sleep with photos of Han beside his bed and on his phone. He wants to kiss him.   
He doesn’t think either of them could handle that right now, though - no matter how badly _both of them_ want it. 

“I know a lot has changed…” Han whispers toward their hands, looking up to Minho with a faint blush. “But thank you for staying.” Han says, locking their fingers together and bringing Minho’s palm up to his lips - leaving a small kiss there before bringing it back down to his arm and letting go. Minho breathes out an incredulous chuckle, turning his burning face away to try and hide his wide smile. Han watches him, smiling to himself and looking up at the still hanging star lights. His eyes scan over the room as a whole, his gaze settling on a large telescope. He remembers telling Minho so long ago about having one as a child, how he would use it to try and find himself in the stars. Han considers for a moment that maybe Minho had tried to find himself too, maybe even to find Han. “What did you find out?” Han asks, speaking before thinking and gesturing toward the telescope before he can stop himself. Minho looks, locking eyes with the still smiling Han.   
“Nothing I didn’t already know before you left.” Minho says, Han now blushing. They stare at each other in the warm glow of the star lights, memories of the several times this very interaction had happened running through their minds. All of the near kisses, the last kiss they shared that they had silently agreed to count as their first. Both boys look away, smiling and pretending to not notice that the other is, too. Minho is still touching Han, each of them glad to use the touch as a way to prove this is really happening. Han is really back, is actually sitting with Minho in the attic, and they are actually acting like they had before. Han quietly asks to stay longer - how could Minho say no? 

Minho was happy watching Han explore the entirety of the house, watching the way his face would light up upon noticing how things had changed and how lived in the place looked. Minho followed him around, answering the occasional questions about when something had gotten done or how he had managed to do such a good job. Han had looped them into Minho’s completely finished room, Han flopping himself onto the bed and looking around happily at all the additions. Minho was debating on pinching himself then, convinced things were far too good in comparison to the last time Han had been in his house - the last time Minho hadn’t even been in the house with him. 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Han says, sitting himself up and beginning to lift himself away. Minho smiles gently at the way he had so easily fallen back into the habit of claiming his bed, Minho simply sitting beside him rather than letting Han leave. Minho doesn’t want him to feel weird, to feel unwelcome to the familiar comforts or as if things may not be okay anymore. He wants to fall into the so-missed domestic moments with Han. Minho is willing to wait those out, though.

“Don’t be,” Minho says quietly, staring at Han as if he may disappear in the blink of an eye. Han is here. Han is on his bed, with vibrant new hair, with his honey skin looking so damn good beside Minho. Han is here and smiling, he is here and he is looking at Minho as if he’s trying to burn Minho’s face into his memory. Maybe Minho blushes, and maybe Han glances away to comment about the decor in order to save him the embarrassment. 

Maybe that night Han stays in the attic, Minho in his own room and laying awake to just stare at the ceiling. Maybe Han quietly moves along the attic, looking out at the stars through the telescope before quickly finding that he has no need for it anymore. Not while he is in the attic, not while Minho is just a floor below him. Han doesn’t need to look for anything anymore. He doesn’t feel the same longing, but he looks anyway. He looks for Honey, supposing that she has become the brightest star, shining brightly in place of her wide smile - flickering happily due to seeing Han and Minho finding each other again. He stops looking after a while, smiling and then looking up to the star lights above him. Honey is in the stars outside, Minho is in the stars hanging above him. He feels….well, he  _ feels. _ For the first time in a while, Han  _ feels.  _ He feels happy, knowing that he can go down to see Minho at any moment. He feels content in hoping that Honey is a witness to this, to Han being back home and staying the night in Minho’s house. He feels a lot, actually, not every feeling able to be described other than feeling  _ right. _

Han feels  _ right _ while walking downstairs, quietly padding his way to Minho’s room even if only to look at him for a moment. He feels right, gently pushing open Minho’s bedroom door and feeling Minho’s wide awake eyes land on him through the darkness. 

“Hey,” Han whispers. Minho responds with a quiet hello. “I just wanted to make sure this was real…” Han admits, nodding a short goodnight and going to pull the door shut again. 

“Han Jisung,” Minho muses, and  _ god,  _ Han has missed hearing that. Hearing his name falling from Minho’s lips, always sounding so affectionate no matter the circumstance. Han peeks back through the door, Minho now sitting up in his bed. “Please come in.” Minho says, something about the strain in his voice makes Han’s heart hurt. He  _ feels _ like maybe Minho wants to assure himself that it’s all real, too. So he enters. 

Han sits on the edge of the bed, twisting his spine to look at Minho’s darkened silhouette. He can  _ feel _ his heart beginning to thump in his chest, looking at the seemingly so familiar boy before him and  _ feeling  _ that they may be yearning for the same thing, right now. 

“M-“ Han stops himself, sighing quietly in place of forcing down a retch. He frowns to himself, wanting nothing more than to look Minho in the face despite the darkness and be able to say his god damn name. Minho gives Han an understanding look, ‘ _ don’t push yourself,’ _ it tells him, the two of them sitting for another moment while they each only stare. Minho finds himself remembering their first night together, the same day they had first met and had gone to the diner as Minho’s introduction to ‘real food.’ Minho remembers the way they had starred in the darkness of the car, much like they are now, pretending that they hadn’t been and acting as if they didn’t already feel something for each other. Minho thinks that that in itself may speak volumes. “Hyung,” Han says softly, sounding a bit frustrated at not being able to say what he truly wants. “Did you want something?” Han asks, and  _ oh.  _ Minho had called him in here. Minho blinks. 

“Fuck,” Minho whispers to himself, suddenly feeling his heart fly into his throat. He’s never wanted something so badly - spare for having Han home in the first place. “Jisung,” Minho swallows his pride, ready to politely accept rejection should it be thrown at him. He would understand given the circumstances of Han’s absence. “Please, just-“ Minho lifts the blankets a bit. “Can I hold you?”

Han is blushing wildly, thankful for the lack of light.  _ Jisung,  _ Minho had said. Not Han, not Han Jisung, just.  _ Jisung.  _ Han is positive Minho has never called him that before. Han forces himself to think, not wanting his shocked silence to be interpreted as a rejection. Han just nods, not caring if Minho can see him or not and letting the way his body shifts the bed beneath him be his answer. 

“It can be just for tonight,” Minho adds in a rush of self-consciousness, watching Han move beneath the blankets. “I just. I can’t…” Minho sighs, feeling like the darkness around them is making it easier to be honest. “I’ve woken up without you so many times now, just, please-“ Minho says, pulling Han against him and burying his head into his neck. “Please still be here in the morning.” Minho whispers against the ever-soft skin, more as a wish to the stars in Han’s eyes rather than a plea to the boy himself. He breathes in the sweet smell of Han, considering it to be his only oxygen. His hands hold Han’s waist tight enough to make sure he’s real, solid,  _ breathing _ . Han’s hair tickles Minho’s nose, only making him curl into the curve in Han’s neck even further. 

Han closes his eyes, a tug at his heart reminding him that he won’t have any idea of what to do should he wake up to this being one big dream. He feels Minho against him now, feels his hair on his cheek and the way he clings to him - but he has felt these things just as perfectly in his dreams. Han brings his hand up to gently swipe a finger over Minho’s exposed cheek, the tip of his thumb lightly running along the tips of his eyelashes. He can feel his heart again. 

“Look at me,” Han whispers into Minho’s hair, the older boy removing himself just enough to look over Han’s features. In the darkness of the room, they each pretend as if their eyes haven’t yet adjusted. They ignore the feeling of watching the other’s eyes flicker down to their lips and back, far too afraid to actually lean into them. Until Han does. 

It makes Minho close his eyes, sucking in a small breath in anticipation. Then he feels it. One, two, three swipes to his nose. So softly, so drawn out as a replacement for what they each want to rush into. It’s a simple, gentle reminder of how they once were. It’s nearly sensual, the way their breaths fan over the other’s lips and the way they each move their head in slow swivels - as if they truly had been kissing. 

“I’ll see you in the morning, Hyung,” Han whispers, keeping their noses close when he lays back down to the pillow. Their foreheads barely touch, both of them closing their eyes. “I promise.” 


	3. Chapter 3

When Minho wakes up, he slowly blinks his eyes open while trying to avoid the harsh light pouring in through the blinds. He is turned on his side, facing away from the door and he stretches his arms above his head. When he does, however, he feels his elbow gently bump into something beside him. He rubs his eyes awake, rolling onto his elbows and searching for whatever it may have been that he hit. Beside him, curled beneath blankets, is a still resting Han Jisung. Minho feels the tears only after they fall, rolling down his cheeks while he breaks into a wide smile. Han is here, just like he had promised to be. It hadn’t been a dream.   
Minho moves to practically throw himself over the still-sleeping form of Han, latching onto him and laughing lightly at how happy he is for something as small as this. He feels a bit silly crying, but he can’t help it; it’s either cry or scream in excitement.   
Han groans under the weight of Minho, trying to roll away and pouting as his eyes open slowly.   
“Han Jisung,” Minho cries, hugging him tighter. “I thought you were another dream.” Minho says, Han moving enough to lay on his back and wrap his arms around the sniffling elder. Han pets his fingers through Minho’s black hair, smiling. There is no other way he would rather be woken up, especially when he, too, had worried that the other may have been all in his head.   
“Good morning, dearest.” Han mumbles into Minho’s ear, nuzzling his cheek into the side of Minho’s head. Han thinks nothing of the name, still lazily smiling and trying to take in every bit of the boy on top of him. Minho lifts himself away from Han, smiling and using the back of his hand to wipe away the drying tears. Han smiles up at him, too, holding his sides loosely and admiring the way the light hits him. Han can feel his heart swelling at the sight, feel the way his face heats up and feel his hand moving to cup the side of Minho’s face before he can do anything about it. Minho waited for him. He stayed, even when Han had told him that it was okay to go.   
Minho’s hand comes up to rest over Han’s, chuckling airily again as a way to release some of the overflowing happiness he feels right now. Minho leans himself just enough to plant a lingering kiss on Han’s forehead, not bothering to move the stray hair that covers it. Dearest, Minho remembers. Han can’t say his name. So he chose Dearest instead. Minho blinks into shyness, looking into the eyes of a still smiling Han. Han, who he is practically sitting on, but seems to be happy regardless. The Han he had loved despite him being gone. The Han he still loves, now. Minho wants to kiss him.   
“I missed this,” Han whispers, bringing his other hand up to hold Minho’s face now, as well. Han runs his thumbs over Minho’s cheekbones, loving the way his skin feels beneath his fingers. He sits himself against the headboard, wiggling his body up just enough to have his shoulders propped.   
“I missed you,” Minho coos, brushing their noses together three times. Han smiles wide, repeating Minho’s words back to him. Han’s stomach makes a faint noise between them, both of them looking down at it.   
“I missed your cooking, too.” Han says cheekily, Minho laughing at him and crawling off of Han as well as the bed with a playful swat at Han’s hands. Han follows him out of bed, jutting his lip out and following behind him while he lists off a number of dishes Minho has been so kind as to make him in the past. Minho brings them into the kitchen, agreeing to cook as long as Han doesn’t try to steal tastes while he isn’t looking - as if that isn’t exactly what he wants. Han agrees with a smile, promptly hopping to sit on the counter. Minho almost shoos him down, deciding instead to walk between his legs and rub their noses together again. Han still steals bites once the food starts to be made; Minho pretends not to notice just as he would a year ago. 

Minho had gone back to work after Han had gone back home, the two of them deciding to set up another day to spend together depending on Minho’s schedule. Work had been a bit odd, Minho choosing to avoid Changbin and sit alone on his breaks instead of with him. Minho would bide his break time by texting Han, sometimes getting no response due to Han being in a therapy session. Minho would get sad for a moment before realizing that Han may have just not mentioned having to go that day, and instead letting himself be proud of Han. Minho would think of how nice it will be once Han is able to say his name again, as well as other things.   
Over breakfast, Han had told him a few more details about what he’s trying to undo. Apparently, the words ‘I love you,’ have been tainted for him as well. Not entirely, but when in specific reference to Minho. Minho had been told only after watching Han panic, hyperventilating and needing to lock himself in the bathroom because of Minho jokingly saying something along the lines of ‘I’ll love you forever if you help put the dishes away.’ Minho had watched his face fall, watched his hands shake to the point of dropping a dish and watching it shatter on the kitchen floor. Minho had felt so terrible, thinking he had hurt Han in some way by saying something they’d said many times in the past. Sure, they never formally told each other how they had felt but they had made jokes like that - so Minho had supposed he may have overstepped.   
When Han had calmed down, he sat Minho down to tell him it wasn’t his fault for not knowing. He had wiped Minho’s tears, telling him that it will take time to undo and that Minho shouldn’t feel bad about something that Han had forgotten to mention. Minho had understood in that moment what Han had meant when he had told him he didn’t leave a return address so that Minho’s letters couldn’t be used against him. He felt guilty remembering how angry he had been about it, wanting nothing more than to respond to him back then. He had felt guilty about it all, really.   
So, they had planned to find days where Han wouldn’t have therapy and Minho wouldn’t have work, Han promising to come to the house rather than making Minho come to the apartment and see Hyunjin and Changbin. Han had told him that he understands his anger with them, but had asked him to try and forgive them; that they had only been following Han’s needs by keeping them apart. Minho had promised to try.   
They had decided on Wednesdays and Sundays. 

Today is Sunday, and a few hours ago Han had told Minho he’d be at the house around 5pm and that he intended on cooking for Minho for once now that he’s had practice at the apartment. 5pm was thirty minutes ago.  
Minho had tried his best to not worry, honestly he did. Because he had waited in the living room since before Han’s estimated arrival time, he had tried to find them plates and cups, mixing up a large container of sweet tea and checking the time after. He had tried to ignore the ache in his heart, seeing that it had only been fifteen minutes past. He knew it wasn’t logical, so he had sat on the couch and tried to watch videos on his phone to lift his mood and distract himself until Han would arrive. That worked for about ten minutes, Minho having to stand and beginning to pace. He doesn’t want to think Han would leave again, he doesn’t want to assume that Han would make plans just to leave his life again but the lack of texts and the passing time was certainly not helping his nerves.   
Just as Minho begins to let the panic overcome him, he hears the front door creak open. He quickly makes his way into the hall, one silent tear of relief sliding over his cheek at the sight of Han shuffling through the door with bags in hand. Minho rushes forward to help him, Han giving him an appreciative smile before Minho watches it waver.   
“Are you crying?” Han asks, raising his now free hand to swipe the stray tear away.   
“Am I?” Minho asks with a blink, raising his own hand to wipe over the same area Han had cleared. Han nods, his eyebrows furrowing while he shuts and locks the door behind him.   
“Are you okay?” Han asks, hanging up his jacket and collecting the bags from Minho’s hand. They both walk to the kitchen, Han continuing to glance at him even as he unloads the groceries onto the counter. Minho is quiet, thinking that he is okay now. Han is here now, and he isn’t hurting anymore. So, he nods. Han isn’t convinced. “Hyung…” Han says, no longer fiddling with the bags and instead gesturing for Minho to move closer. Minho does as he’s told, something about the closeness making his face heat up. They’ve been closer, far closer than the foot of space between them now, and yet Minho can feel himself wanting to move away. “I know that look. Tell me,” Han says firmly despite his hushed voice, reaching out to touch Minho’s shoulder. Minho moves his shoulder away at the last second, Han’s fingertips just barely brushing over the thin material of his long sleeved shirt. Minho looks down, Han’s face falling at the avoidance.   
“What are you making?” Minho tries, looking up to the array of ingredients. His face scrunches up a bit, glaring at the apparent cause for Han’s time delay. Han glances between the food and Minho’s intense stare, part of him beginning to worry that Minho may not like the items he bought. “Is this what took you so long?” Minho snaps, looking to Han now with a look of annoyance that has Han’s heart jumping.   
“I remembered you always liked it at the diner-” Han stutters. Minho quickly cuts him off.   
“Yeah, well a lot can change in a year, can’t it?” He sneers, scoffing and moving back around to the other side of the kitchen, angrily opening the fridge door. He grabs a small water bottle and shuts the door again roughly. “I can’t stand that fucking place.” He mutters.  
Han feels his chest begin to cave, his nose and eyes beginning to tingle with the threat of tears on the way. He can only stare at Minho with wide, pleading eyes that Minho can’t meet. Han watches him angrily fumble with the small cap to the water, his hands repeatedly failing to grip it well enough for it to open. Han silently reaches out, Minho glaring at him and then at his hand. Han’s arm jerks back with the amount of force Minho uses while shoving the bottle into his palm, Han blinking away the wetness around his eyes and calmly opening the bottle for him, holding it out to him uncapped.   
Minho looks at it for a moment, his eyebrows relaxing and his eyes flicking up quickly to Han’s. Han has one arm hugging around his waist, his fingers holding tightly to his large hoodie and his eyes struggling to remain locked with Minho’s. Instead, Han’s eyes find Minho’s trembling lip.   
“Jisung,” Minho says, sounding breathless and strained. Minho takes the bottle away from him and sets it on the counter without drinking it, catching Han’s hand before it falls back to his side. “I’m sorry.” Minho sniffles while wrapping both of his hands around Han’s, bringing his knuckles up to his lips and letting them brush together softly as he speaks again. “You were late and I worried that you had left again.” Minho admits shakily, squeezing his eyes shut to let his tears fall and planting a small kiss to the back of Han’s hand.   
Han gives him a baffled look; it hadn’t even been that long. Sure he didn’t text him but he had only gone out for ingredients, he had even left early to not waste Minho’s time. It had only taken so long because the layout of the store had apparently changed since the last time he had gone, and Han had to walk through every aisle to find everything he needed.   
“I don’t care how,” Minho starts, Han looking at him clearly now. The way his shoulders shake while trying not to cry, his flushed face from his attempt failing. “Please just touch me so I know you’re still real.” Minho pleads, bringing his head down and Han’s hand up to it, Minho lacing his own hair into Han’s fingers. “Han Jisung, please.” Minho says. Han can feel Minho’s hands shaking against his, the sight of Minho like this making him feel nothing but guilt for leaving. He’s always felt that guilt, but this? Seeing the man he knows to be so strong and so collected becoming so... weak? Vulnerable? Dependent? Something about it doesn’t sit right with him. Regardless, Han brings himself closer to Minho and unfolds his other arm. He uses his free hand to bring Minho’s head to rest against his chest, wrapping his arm behind his neck and holding him as close as he will be able to while the taller of the two is bent so uncomfortably. His other hand rakes through Minho’s ever-dark hair, Minho letting his own hands fall to clutch the sides of Han’s yellow hoodie.   
“I’m not leaving.” Han says against Minho’s hair, Minho sniffling against him and nodding.   
“Please keep talking.” Minho whispers, wrapping his arms around Han’s thin waist. It’s so familiar, so comforting and Han smells so, so good. He always does, he always has. Minho is glad to have Han filling his senses.   
“I’m here, hyung, don’t worry. We can just order out tonight, yeah?” Han asks, Minho shaking his head quickly.   
“I still like it. Thank you for remembering,” Minho says, removing himself from Han’s chest to instead bury his face into Han’s neck. “I don’t hate the diner, I hated going there alone and expecting you to walk in.” Minho says, the feeling of being pressed against Han practically sedating him. The tears have stopped, his heart is calm again, and his grip on the boy has become more comfortable. His eyes are shut and all he knows is that Han is here, and things are okay. Han is holding him, Han is warm, Han is here to spend time with him.   
Han can only nod, gently tilting his head to give Minho more space to hide himself away, his hand still softly scratching along Minho’s head while he listens to Minho’s breathing level out. They stay that way for a while, breathing in sync and just enjoying the feeling of each other in their hands. If they had been laying down, Minho is sure he would have fallen asleep. 

Things had calmed down after they had let go of each other, Minho happily watching Han move around his kitchen and just savoring the sight of it. He loved watching the way he would occasionally open the wrong drawer or cabinet, making small noises upon realizing he had been wrong and then turning to ask Minho where something was. When they had eaten, they ate in the attic. They had thrown on a random movie Han had picked with his eyes closed. Honestly, the movie wasn’t too bad, even though Minho hadn’t been fond of the sudden kissing scene in the middle of the biggest fight of the plot. It had taken Minho a shockingly long time to realize that they have both seen that movie before, even having a whole conversation about the females always getting the hot male lead even if the plot would be fine without it. It had led to Minho accidentally outing himself to Han, but in a way he’s glad it happened so casually. He thought he should have noticed by the way Han’s eyes had softened while pressing play, but to be fair, Han had made really good food. Minho was simply too busy appreciating it to care about much else in that moment.   
Han had agreed to stay the night, telling Minho that his therapy is later in the day and that Minho can just drop him off if he wants to. Minho gladly agreed, quickly bringing pillows for Han into the attic. Han had smiled at him, and for a moment Minho had forgotten that he had ever left to begin with. He felt the same rush of butterflies peeking through the haze of comfort that Han carries, feeling the need to look away in order to hide his smile as if Han hadn’t seen the habit a thousand times before.   
Hours later, now well into the night, Minho can feel himself beginning to feel tired. He is trying his best to blink away the feeling, not wanting to leave Han just yet. He can’t help but rub his eye as it waters with a yawn, though, Han looking at him from his side of the expanded bed and giving him a small look of content. Minho sighs, knowing it should be now that he leaves to find his own bed and leave Han to sleep without interruption or delay, so he mumbles something vaguely about being tired - his voice getting lost by another yawn pumping through him. Han says nothing, looking at him for a moment before moving one of his pillows to rest near Minho and giving him an expectant look. Minho is much more awake, now.   
“I can stay?” He asks, moving the pillow behind him and hoping that he hadn’t interpreted the gesture wrong.   
Han turns a light shade of pink, looking away from him just long enough to get up and turn off the overhead light, leaving the yellow toned stars on and crawling back into the bed beside Minho. He faces away from him, shrugging off his hoodie before getting under the covers, now only in shorts and a tank top. Minho just looks at him for a moment, still sitting up and looking down to where Han is looking up at him from his pillow.   
Minho adjusts himself to mimic Han, the two of them turning on their sides to face each other, saying nothing while saying everything at once. They want to be normal again. They want to be okay. They want to act as if nothing happened, but they know that they can’t. They know that it hurts to feel that way.   
“Jisung,” Minho whispers, Han humming softly as if there is anyone around to hear them. “I’m really sorry about Honey.” He says, straightening his mouth into a line, one side ever so slightly quirked as a promise to not say more unless Han does. Han looks at him, the tears already rolling down the side of his face and wetting his pillow. His sniffles fill the air around them, Han needing to prop himself on his arm in order to wipe his now puffy face. He silently nods, fast enough to tell Minho he appreciated the comment but that it’s still a touchy topic. He lets out a shaky sigh, looking up to the hanging stars and letting his bottom lip shake as he fights back everything he’s been avoiding. Minho feels his own heart ache for him, his own eyes watering but able to be kept at bay for the sake of staying strong for Han.   
“Yeah,” Han croaks, clearing his throat promptly after. “So am I.” He says, roughly ruffling his hair as if it might make the thoughts go away. Minho sits himself up now, pulling Han against him without a second thought. He lets himself lay back, the weight of Han on his chest feeling far better than the weight of the otherwise healing situation. Han can’t hold his tears in anymore, crying freely into Minho’s chest and shoulder; Minho can feel the way his hands are scrunching his shirt in an attempt to hang on to the only thing grounding him at the moment. Right now, that thing is Minho. It is Minho’s warmth, the way he is gently rubbing his back and just letting him cry. It is the occasional sniffles Han hears from above his head, and the soft rhythm of Minho’s heartbeat against his ear. They eventually fall asleep in that position, Minho not caring that his shirt has been soaked through in the slightest. Not when he knows Han needs to get it all out. Especially not considering it’s a small price to pay to have his boy pressed against him for comfort. He considers it better, if anything, because it is Han being vulnerable with him. It is a silent moment where they don’t need words; just to hold each other to feel okay. And that’s okay with him.


	4. Chapter 4

When Minho wakes up, his first thought is to lean down and place a small kiss on the top of the head resting against him.   
“Morning,” Han says quietly, Minho blushing at being caught so easily. In his defense, he assumed that if Han had been awake, he would have moved away out of embarrassment. He supposes he still needs the comfort.   
Minho hums in response, rolling onto his side and holding Han against him. He can feel the steady increase in heart rate, his chest gently pressed to Han’s in this position. Minho is convinced he can never get enough of the feeling, especially after going so long without it. He loves waking up to Han beside him, waking up to be entirely surrounded by all that he is and be able to enjoy the moments where they have nothing to do other than exist with each other. He isn’t sure when his hand found the side of Han’s head, or when he had started stroking his hair away from his eyes and loving how soft it feels. He doesn’t even notice he’s doing it until Han lets out a small sigh, sounding fairly content in comparison to how they had fallen asleep. With his eyes still shut, for once, Minho is sure Han is not blushing. He is sure he is taking the affection happily; eagerly, even. If he had to guess, he would say Han has shut his eyes by now. Minho could stay like this forever and be happy, he thinks, angling Han’s head to tuck softly under his chin while his fingers continue to work. He is glad for the quiet, glad Han had agreed the air was already buzzing with things unsaid. He’s glad he agrees there’s no room for any spoken words right now.   
“Can I ask you a weird question?” Han says softly after a long pause, his head shifting to try and find Minho’s face.   
“You know the answer to that already.” Minho mumbles, even in his groggy state a hint of teasing finding its way into the morning. Han softly clicks his tongue to his teeth, Minho imagines him trying not to smile.   
“I’m serious, I feel weird asking you this.” Han says, shifting his position to keep his face hidden should Minho look at him. Minho just hums. “I have two questions,” Han admits, sighing on the brink of sadness. Minho gently squeezes him in his hold, letting go again as a form of encouragement. Han seems to take it well. “Did you ever move on and find someone else?” Han asks, Minho barely able to hear. The question throws him off for a moment, opening his eyes and frowning.   
“I considered trying, but then I realized I would just be projecting my loneliness onto someone else and that I shouldn’t bother.” Minho says easily, knowing that his partial crush on his then best friend Hyunjin had only been out of despair. He likes to think it is, anyway, considering the only other option would mean that he had given up on Han. He knows he hadn’t, deep down he had known that a part of him had left with Han and would need to be returned by Han and Han alone. So no, he hadn’t dwelled long on the fleeting thoughts of Hyunjin or what they could have grown to be. With Han home, that much is clear to him. It was Han he had wanted all along, and Hyunjin reminded him of Han so much that his heart tried to fill a Han shaped hole with a Hyunjin shaped piece. Clearly, it hadn’t worked.   
“Do you care for me in the same way as you did then?” Han asks now, a small sniffle following. Minho knows this is his adjusted way of asking ‘do you still love me,’ but the question still seems almost offensive to him. Of course he does. He stayed for him. He’s here with him now.   
“Honestly?” Minho asks, Han nodding against him. Minho can feel his body tense at the worry of being told no. “I think I….” Minho pauses. “I adore you more now than ever, Jisung.” He says, Han’s body relaxing against him just before he feels Han hugging the air out of him. Minho chuckles nonetheless. “Hey, hey,” Minho coos at the sound of more sniffles. He gently removes himself from the iron grasp, smiling at the blushing boy as he wipes his damp eyes. “Tell me those are good tears,” Minho jokes, Han nodding quickly and choking out a chuckle as well.   
“Can you sit up?” Han asks, pushing himself up as he does. Minho follows, watching Han’s eyes drift over him from his hair to his shoulders. He almost blushes. Almost.   
When Han leans in, Minho is ready for him this time. He is ready for the three swipes at his nose, ready for their foreheads resting together and the way they smile while looking into each other’s eyes at such a close distance. He is ready for the way Han reaches out and holds his hands. He isn’t ready for the moment where he looks down in embarrassment only to have a clear view of Han’s healing scars.   
There are many, some healing thicker than others, thinner ones at his wrists and deeper ones trailing toward his elbow. Both arms have them, and every one of the 13 scars he counts seem to tighten his throat like adding rubber bands to a balloon. He looks away from them, knowing that there is nothing he could have done to stop them. He looks back up to Han, who has his eyes closed and is still smiling against him. Han, who is here now, who just asked him if he still cared; meaning that he must as well. Han, who did what he had to do to get out of a situation that was unsafe and unhealthy for him - a situation that he is currently strong enough to learn to undo. Han. His Han Jisung, the boy he feels like he’s waited a lifetime for.   
“Han Jisung,” Minho rasps, blinking away the wetness in his eyes. “If I kiss you, will anything bad happen?” He asks, Han opening his eyes and looking between Minho’s concerned ones. His eyebrows knit together softly, as if he is trying to sort through every terrible thing that happened to him in order to check if that one specific action has also been blacklisted.   
“I don’t know…” Han whispers, his voice falling along with his face. Minho shakes his head gently.   
“Then I won’t. Just know that I really, really want to.” He says, his eyes drifting to Han’s lips for emphasis. Han flushes at this, looking ready to risk it all in order to find out the hard way if it will garner a negative response. He knows it best if he doesn’t, though, and Minho can practically see the angel and demon on his shoulders. It brings a faint smirk to his lips, and the way Han’s eyes follow the motion makes the smirk a bit wider.   
“If I knew the full effect of everything, I’d tell you that I’m asking,” Han says, sighing dramatically and dawning a smirk of his own as soon as Minho’s falls. “And for real, this time.” Minho groans at that.   
“One of these days, Jisung, I swear-“ Han interrupts him.   
“Yeah, yeah, you’ll ruin me or whatever. Don’t get yourself worked up when nothing will come of it.” Han chuckles, moving away and standing to stretch beside the bed. Minho frowns at him.   
“Just because you know what I was going to say doesn’t mean it isn’t true.” Minho mumbles, standing himself up as well and ruffling his messy hair in an attempt to tame it.   
Han gives him an airy scoff, yeah okay, it says, Han intentionally bumping Minho’s shoulder on his way to the stairs. Minho stays facing away from the stairs while rolling his eyes with a huff, turning to descend the stairs only after Han’s head bobs out of sight. It’s nice to have him back. 

After another surprisingly well made meal from Han and a few tension filled stares while Minho has been wishing Han would just eat him instead, the pair found themselves showered and changed and ready to continue lounging until Han’s appointment. They had gone back to the attic, played a few games and argued over who had the best excuse for losing matches. Minho has tried at first to blame it on not playing in awhile, but Han had beaten him by reminding him that he hadn’t even had a phone for a year. Minho switched tactics then, claiming that seeing Han in his clothes again after so long simply made him feel some type of way and that it was distracting. When Han had jokingly asked if he should take them off for the next round, Minho had blushed furiously; he hadn’t taken the joke to mean Han changing back into his own clothes, and it had made Han erupt into laughter. Minho had hit him with a pillow in response, making Han clutch his stomach and try to win a tug of war over the soft weapon. He had failed because of his laughter, and Minho had just huffed while putting it back into place behind him, grumbling something along the lines of ‘just ready up, already.”   
As the clock continued to tick, Minho could feel himself getting antsy. He could feel the dread of Han leaving beginning to run through him even though Han was still beside him, and he tried his best to focus on the time he still had rather than the after. It made his skin itch regardless. When Han had asked him about how his hives had been healing, Minho had proudly rolled his sleeves to show nearly invisible marks, Han praising him for healing so well. He had held Minho’s face in his hands, squishing his cheeks together and shaking his face gently, using an almost overbearingly sweet tone to do so. Minho had whined and swatted his hands away despite the pang of happiness he had felt in his chest.   
Now, an hour and a half before Minho has to drop Han off, he can feel his heart racing. He is finding himself checking the time twice every few minutes, and Han has definitely noticed.   
“Don’t be sad,” Han hums, taking Minho’s phone altogether. He holds it away from him when he reaches for it. “You know why we have a schedule, dearest.” Han says gentler this time, Minho’s shoulders slumping as he nods. Before a sigh can make its way from his chest, Minho fully processes what Han said. He had called him dearest again.   
“I really like that name,” Minho admits, a smile forming slowly. “I like it a lot.” Han grins at him, moving Minho’s face to look at him by holding his chin.   
“I have a lot of names in mind for you.” Han says, brushing their noses together. Minho almost blushes by how quickly his mind brings the dirtier names into his head, but he shoves them away at the sight of how genuinely Han is looking at him. Minho hums in question. “You want to know a few?” Han asks for clarification, Minho nodding into his hand and thanking Han mentally for being able to understand his hums and mumbles. “Well, sweet boy is one of them. Usually said in the context of my sweet boy,” Han says, releasing Minho’s jaw and letting out a satisfied puff of air at the way Minho blinks at him. Han watches the way his cheeks begin to burn, the way his subtly wider eyes blink up at him like a pet waiting for affection. “Do you like that one too?” Han presses, crossing his arms confidently over his chest and leaning against the back of the couch with his legs extended and crossed. Minho looks at him for a moment before slowly nodding, looking as if he is half a deer in headlights and half trying to see if Han is joking. Fortunately for Minho - or unfortunately - Han is serious.   
“Are there any others?” Minho stutters, fiddling with his fingers. Han loves this version of him, the ‘shy to be praised’ Minho and the way he tries to hide the fact that he likes cute things like pet names more than he lets on. He loves the way he acts embarrassed even if he tries to play it off.   
“A few, but I’m not sure if you’d like them as much,” Han says, hiding his smile while he waits for Minho to think of a way to ask without asking.   
“Try me then, if you don’t know.” Minho presses. Han loves being able to predict him.   
“They’re pretty out there, you sure?” He asks, Minho just nodding beside him. Han hums. “I like pet, too.” Minho gives him a confused look, but not one of disgust. “I like it because it implies that I take care of you, you know? It’s not a weird kink thing.” Han explains, grinning at the way Minho laughs at the clarification. Minho nods.   
“I’m sure I could get used to it if you like it that much.” Minho says almost shyly, smiling down at his still twiddling fingers. “I want to call you things too.”   
“Like what?” Han asks, knocking their shoulders together and successfully making Minho look at him. He is smiling softly at Minho, trying to make him feel comfortable enough to share the more hidden part of himself. The part that is soft and gentle and seemingly only ever shown to Han. The thought of Minho calling him sweet nicknames in front of others who only know one version of him has his stomach doing flips.   
“I don’t know,” Minho pauses. “I just know that I want to.” Minho admits, Han smiling at him regardless. Han supposes being surprised with a name will be worth it, so he just plants a kiss to the side of Minho’s head and admires the shocked sheepishness that follows. Han is glad to be back.


	5. Chapter 5

Han sits in the comfortable chair in the corner of the therapist’s office. He’s become quite fond of it, if he’s honest; the bookshelves lining the walls, the deep brown desk with a singular lamp that stays on during his sessions. If his appointments line up, he gets to feed the fish in the small tank near the door, and the hanging plants on the window always greet him with vibrant green leaves that have yet to rot. His therapist, a sweet older woman by the name of Ms. Minyuk - although she has given him permission to call her Minnie in sessions - sits in the chair opposite him with the same light blue binder he picked out himself. When she had first asked if he had a color preference he had almost picked red, but the baby blue of the binder reminded him so much of Minho’s truck that his decision had been swayed.   
“Do you have anything you’d prefer to do today?” Minnie asks, pushing up her glasses as she opens the folder with the same warm smile Han has seen for the past few months. He’s come to enjoy her and her style of sessions, the way she approaches things that always lead to him finding his own answers in the middle of his rambling.   
“I want to talk about what happened again.” Han says, mindlessly running his fingers over the seams in the chair, his shoes off and his feet curled against him on the spacious cushion. A small pillow is hugged to his chest, a habit he picked up on the second week of coming here once he was comfortable enough to do more than just sit up straight and treat it like an interview. Minnie nods, flipping to a section of the binder that is designated with a red tab. Red for touchy topics. Han hears her pen click and quickly jot down the date. He can tell by the sound of the movement on the paper - another habit he had picked up.   
“Would you like to start from the beginning?” She asks, Han nodding. “Tell me again, see if any new details come to mind.” Han nods again.   
“Honey died. My parents set me up for counseling.” Han adds air quotes with his fingers, his face distorting in the pain of his parent’s rejection. “It seemed normal until they started keeping me longer and convincing me hypnosis could benefit me.”   
“It can, when done in your best interest.” Minnie chides, Han smiling at her and the way she knows how to lighten the mood. There have been a few occasions where Han has had to go under hypnosis in order to decondition some tendencies. Han purposely left those tendencies out of the story he told Minho.   
“When I had agreed, they started conditioning me. I remember that I get sick from a name, from love associated with that person and from feeling… aroused by a man.” Han frowns, hugging the pillow to him.   
“You mentioned you’ve been spending time with him more. Has the last one become an issue at all?” She asks, sounding genuinely concerned in comparison to the last place Han had been. He should have been tipped off by the sound of forced friendliness immediately back then, but he had been desperate. He thought the people there may have hated their job, but instead they hated the clients.   
“Kind of. I don’t really feel ill with that though, I feel…” Han tries to level his breathing, shrugging off the way his heart pounds at the mere thought. “It’s more like I’m afraid. I’m afraid as if he would hurt me, but I know he wouldn’t. I’m afraid to even kiss him in case anything escalates.” Han admits, burying his face in the soft fabric of the pillow, sighing and keeping his head down as Minnie speaks.   
“Fear is unfortunately the easiest emotion to manipulate, Jisung. One bad experience, perceived or actual can have someone form a phobia attached to that occurrence.” Han nods, Minnie continuing. “We can try hypnosis for that, but if I’m being honest the only way to completely overcome a fear is to face it. You said you trust him, right? You’ll have to let that overcome the fear.” Minnie says gently, Han raising his head to rest his chin on the pillow and nod again. “Keep telling me the story?”   
“They hurt me. They would hit me with things whenever my eyes went to the male instead of the female when asked who was more attractive.” Han frowns. Remembering the stupid eye tracking software and how it betrayed him to the point of bleeding knuckles and aching shoulders. Minnie nods. “They made me write pages and pages about how I’m a disgrace and how any man that loves me is even more disgusting because that means they haven’t been fixed. That I should look down on them.” Han says, his tone progressively becoming more aggressive. “I hated those assignments most.”  
“Did you try the nickname method we talked about?” Minnie asks, opting for an easy question before delving into the pit of Han Jisung’s mind. Han nods, telling her the names he had picked and smiling when she calls all of them cute.   
“I want to say his name.” Han says firmly, hating how he had been so easily manipulated in his vulnerable state. He hates how he’s changed. He hates how he can’t even bring himself to return to his own room. It’s been months now. At the very least, he wants to say Minho’s name.   
“We can work on that today,” Minnie says, flipping the binder to a blue tab. Blue for Minho specific topics. Han smiles at the correlation between the tab and the binder itself. “Get comfortable, you know the drill.” 

After Han practically begging Minnie for the entire session to keep trying, telling her that it will work this time and that it’s just a name, Minnie asks him to try again one last time before the session ends. Han takes a breath, his mind only filled with one thing. One person. Minho. He can see him, he can be normal, all things considered; he just wants to say one word. One name. Minho’s name. Minho. Minho. Minho.  
“Minho.” He whispers, bracing for the drop in his stomach and the way his throat normally begins to tingle as if he’s about to be sick. Normally. But it doesn’t. “Minho,” Han says louder, his heart thumping in excitement at the sound of it. He looks at Minnie with wide, shining eyes as he scrambles to his feet. “Lee fucking Minho!” Han shouts, wanting the whole world to hear him. He jumps as he yells, Minnie grinning at him and standing as well. She looks proud, Han can’t help but hug her. He doesn’t care about professionalism, not right now. She hugs him back anyway, praising him and urging him to keep saying it. To get used to it and to replace every bad thought it had been attached to with new, meaningful ones. Han feels as if he’s vibrating, repeating ‘Minho’ as if his life depended on it. In his mind, out loud, writing it onto his skin with a marker and letting Minho become the only thing he can say. He wants to call him, but wants even more to say it in person to him. He wants to do it casually, and see the look on his face once he realizes Han isn’t running to the bathroom. He wants to feel Minho crush him into a hug and tell him he’s so proud of him and hear him beg for Han to say it again. He wants to scream it at the top of his lungs and not care what strangers may think, he wants to wave at them while he practically skips down the middle of the street yelling nothing other than one boy’s name. His boy’s name. Minho’s name.   
“Jisung, you’re making amazing progress.” Minnie says, pulling him out of the daydream. “I want to set up an extra appointment for you. You’re doing so well.” She says fondly, Han nodding in excitement. He wants to tell Minho he loves him. He wants to love him without any fear attached to him, he wants to drown himself in Minho and let himself sink rather than try and fight it like he has been. He doesn’t want to claw his way to the surface anymore, he doesn’t want to have to gasp for air in an attempt to distance himself anymore - he just wants Minho. Now that he has him again, he wants to be able to love him as he had before, not like he has been. Not in such a distant approach, not in a weird limbo that leaves both of them teetering between will they or won’t they work out. He wants to be better. So, he doesn’t care when the next appointment is, letting Minnie set it up and agreeing without thought.   
The thought of Minho has Han reeling when he gets into the car with Hyunjin, immediately spouting off ‘Minho, Minho, Lee Minho!’ and watching Hyunjin’s eyes soften. They ride home talking about the session and how well it had gone, how he has an extra day this week since he’s on such a roll. Han worries when Hyunjin’s face twists. When he asks him which day has been changed, Han tells him the date. Hyunjin’s face contorts into one of worry and suddenly Han worries he may have accidentally cancelled something important.   
“You’re not going to see Minho? That’s this upcoming Wednesday.” Hyunjin says, Han’s face falling. How could he forget that?   
“I can go over after, it should be okay. He can pick me up.” Han smiles, not letting his mood be entirely crushed. He doesn’t think it really could be, not when he’s still on the verge of screaming out of Hyunjin’s window. Hyunjin just nods, patting Han’s shoulder with a tight lipped dimple-showing smile, pinching Han’s cheek for emphasis and only pulling onto the road after Han chuckles and swats his hand away. Han doesn’t think he’ll get much sleep tonight. If he does, he’s sure it will be because of counting how many times he can say Minho before he passes out. He smiles at the thought.


	6. Chapter 6

Minho has tried to call Han four times today. They hadn’t set a time for him to come over, but Minho is sure he would have been here already. Han isn’t one to really ever sleep in, and even if he had he would have texted him an estimated time frame to be picked up. He would have texted him if Hyunjin or Changbin was going to drop him off. He would have told Minho not to worry, that he had errands to run. But he hadn’t. He hasn’t reached out to Minho at all, and it is nearing dinner time already. Minho has been waiting all day, expecting the usual schedule of spending most of the day together. He’s been cleaning up and wondering what he should make them for dinner, but now he’s worried there won’t even be another person to feed. He has thought about texting Changbin, but he knows that Changbin is the one working as his replacement right now. Minho can’t bring himself to call Hyunjin.   
At 5:45 on the dot, Minho hears the door open. He doesn’t get up from the couch.   
“Minho,” he hears, followed by soft footsteps making their way into the living room. Minho keeps watching whatever show is playing. He hasn't been paying attention. “Minho?” He hears again, Minho turning only his head to glare at a smiling Han. He watches Han’s smile fall. He turns back to the boring sitcom. “I was at therapy,” Han explains, treading lightly around the side of the couch and sitting himself down. Minho doesn’t look. “I had to turn my phone off.”   
“You never have therapy on Wednesdays.” Minho says flatly. Han almost winces at the tone. He opens his mouth to explain, but Minho continues before he can speak. “You could have at least fucking told me if you did.” He snaps, standing and walking away from the couch. Han knows he has a point, but he had been running late as is and needed to hurry. “You had how many days to tell me?” Minho continues as he enters the kitchen, Han standing to follow him. “And you fucking didn’t.” Minho turns to look at him abruptly, Han stopping mid step and suddenly wishing he hadn’t followed. Minho is standing straight enough to notice a difference in his height, his chest pointing out toward Han and his hands are formed into fists at his sides. He looks ready to hit something. Han steps back.   
“I’m sorry,” Han says quietly, Minho furrowing his eyebrows into an even harsher line. “I was doing really well, I wanted to surprise you.” He says, stepping back again when Minho steps toward him. “Minho,” Han says firmly, planting his feet where he stands. Minho’s expression doesn’t change. Han doesn’t know what to feel.   
“You’re sorry?” Minho asks, an almost amused looking smirk forming in the corner of his mouth. “You wasted my time.” The smirk turns into a snarl. Han has decided that he feels like he isn’t looking at Minho anymore.   
“I need therapy more than I need to explain myself to you.” Han says, his tone giving away only a fraction of how violently his heart is beating. “I apologized for not coming and not telling you. I’m not going to stand here and beg you to forgive me.” He snaps, suddenly feeling his annoyance surface. He is going to therapy for Minho. Everything he has done to get better has been for Minho. Himself, too, but largely for the sake of reforming whatever he and Minho had before he left. And this is what he gets? Sure. He should have told him. He didn’t, knowing it would upset him. He didn’t want to cancel, so he opted to come later. But he still came over. Minho should be glad.   
“What you need is to realize that I only get to see you twice a week. Twice a week after waiting a year.” Minho shouts, Han flinching at the way the walls seem to shake. “After finding you hiding out in the same place I would go to forget you.” Minho emphasizes the last words, his face twisting into a mocking smile. Han wants to hit him.   
“And I was going to therapy to remember you.” Han says, closing the distance between them quickly. “I continue to go because I need to undo the shit in my head,” Minho is staying in place. “So I can do basic human functions like saying your fucking name, Minho.” Han seethes, jabbing his finger into Minho’s chest roughly. Minho looks down at it angrily and begins to lift his hand to move Han’s away. He stops. Han takes his hand away, folding his arms over his chest. Han knows what this is about, now. He knew something felt off about Minho’s reaction to him being late. It’s all clicked into place now.   
“How many times have you said my name?” Minho asks in a much smaller sounding voice, his face now relieved of the grimace he had had. He looks at Han, his eyes much softer.   
“Four.” Han states, faking a gagging noise with a straight face. “As a result of therapy, I can say it again.” He says, Minho giving him a weak smile. Han doesn’t want to see it. “By the look of things, you should start going.” Han says, unfolding his arms and turning his back to Minho as he walks back to the couch.   
“I don’t need-“ Han cuts Minho off.   
“You do. You’re still afraid I’ll leave again. You have issues with me being gone. You want to know where I am constantly. You have separation issues.” Han says flatly. He doesn’t even look where Minho stands, focused more on changing the channel in front of him. He doesn’t see the way Minho’s face seems to spark anger before fizzling out again. He doesn’t see the way Minho looks at him, eyes pleading and body slumping out of it’s defensive stance. “If you can’t appreciate that I still came to spend time with you, if you’re really not okay with constant contact and two days that fit our schedules, then yes. I am telling you you need therapy.” Han says while setting the remote down. “My life can not and will not revolve around you and your unhealthy need to monitor me at all times.”   
Minho blinks at him, suddenly very aware of how often he texts Han. He had assumed it was his happiness of having Han being able to answer. Thinking about it now, it hasn’t been much more than Han updating him on his whereabouts - what he’s doing and when. There hasn’t been any variety in conversation, there hasn’t been much banter or flirtation. It has been almost goal oriented. Minho sinks into the couch beside Han.   
“If you’re going to scold me, at least keep saying my name.” Minho says, Han’s lips twitching for a second before it falls back into his neutral pout. “Please?” Minho tries, his head rolling on the back of the couch to look at Han dead on. From Han’s words, he realizes why the house feels wrong without him. Why he is so much calmer around him. How tense he hadn’t ever noticed he would be without him around or responding to him. He thought that was his baseline. That Han was his comfort. Knowing to what extent that has been true has him feeling a bit uneasy.   
“Minho,” Han says with an exasperated tone. Minho smiles at his name regardless. “I mean it. After today I won’t come at all until you agree to go.” Han says. Minho just admires him now that he’s calmed down, taking time to refamiliarize his features. Han looks at him with a sigh. “I will ghost you if I have to. You’ll realize how hard it is and you’ll agree.” Han proceeds, Minho now frowning at the thought of Han cutting contact.   
“That’s after today. I still have you, now.” Minho coos, pulling Han towards him so his shoulder is nestled under his arm. Han rolls his eyes but agrees, resting his head on the shoulder he’s tucked under. Minho continues to pester him about saying his name for the rest of the night. Han tries his best to seem annoyed about it.


	7. Chapter 7

Minho hadn’t anticipated Han to take the threat so seriously. He hadn’t expected Han’s only message to him to be ‘I meant it, tell me when you’ve set up an appointment.’ He didn’t expect himself to fall into such a deep pit without him. He logically knows that he is okay, Hyunjin or Changbin would have told him otherwise. He knows he is trying to make a point, and that he hasn’t suddenly decided to hate him - but boy has it felt like it. Minho tried calling, tried texting and tried to shut his phone off to not think about it. He tried to go about his work life normally, until he started feeling phantom buzzing from his phone. He would check regardless. He tried to not haggle Changbin about Han’s whereabouts. Whenever he would fail, Changbin relayed Han’s message of ‘it’s for your own good this time.’ Minho knows he can make the choice and have it be over with, he can see Han again as soon as he complies. He knows that he had been greedy, now longing just to hear Han’s voice again. He knows that if he continues to be stubborn, he will end up how he was before - and this time it will be his fault. He doesn’t have his friends to lean on for this, and the lonely nights seem a million times worse. Photos of Han don’t help him in this case, not when he knows he can drive to see him. He has that option now. In fact he had tried to do just that, knocking on the apartment door wildly with tears streaming, begging Hyunjin to let him in. Hyunjin had called for Changbin, and Minho had been overpowered back into the hallway. He had sat and cried, wanting to at least feel physically closer to Han - until the boys returned and saved him from getting the cops called on him.  
Minho had tried everything for a solid month, realizing in a moment of clarity that the way he had been acting wasn’t him at all. It wasn’t the Minho he knew, the Minho Han knew, not even the Minho Hyunjin and Changbin knew. He realized when he had gone to call Han again - seeing his phone display the number 114 beside Han’s name in bold red. Minho had cried then, not wanted to even think about how many texts he must have sent him.   
All of this is why Minho is sitting in a decently comfortable chair in the corner of a friendly looking office, locking eyes with a woman who seems sweet enough. Minho enjoys the fishtank, the plants and the way the woman speaks to him, but his mind is screaming that only Han can help him - so why bother?  
The woman talks to him as if she knows so much about him already, and in many ways it is comforting. He doesn’t feel the need to explain every single thought, and she seemingly doesn’t feel the need to ask. For only his second session, his first real session after an introductory meeting, he feels comfortable enough to at least begin to speak his mind. They’ve talked about the sudden leaving of Han, the near death and the violent reappearance. He’s told her how he logically can’t blame Han for anything, but he can’t help but panic and get defensive whenever something as small as a missed call sets him into anxiety. He’s happily told her about his cats, as well as Sydney, and how he hopes they can meet and get along someday. She has listened, she has given him a few looks he’s been unable to read, and she’s remembered all of it. Minho appreciates the effort.   
“You worry he’ll leave again, is what you’re saying,” She says, closing the red binder on her lap. Minho had picked it because he’d rather see Han’s favorite color than his own. If he chose mindlessly, he would have picked blue to match his truck. “But that’s not entirely what I’m getting from you.” She says. Minho gives her a confused look - this is why he’s here to begin with. “You moved so much for the houses, right?” Minho nods. “What about as a child?” She asks. Minho shrugs. Pretty much the same, he tells her. She nods. “You’ve decided for once in your life that some people are worth staying for,” She says gently, leaning forward to look him in the eye. “Part of this is what happened recently, but I also think there’s a deep fear that the people you stay for won’t stay for you.” She says. Minho suddenly remembers how he had asked the boys to move in with him, playing it off as needing rent help and finding an empty house unbearable. He remembers attaching himself emotionally to Han and Honey’s mailbox, empathising with the inanimate object that had been left behind. He thinks about all the people he has left behind in his own life, how it had scared him into never wanting to be stationary. Not moving forward means no change, no change means no room for growth. Staying in one place meant getting attached to people around you and getting hurt when they’d move on to better things. So he stopped staying. He stopped getting attached. Until Han.   
“I see,” Is all he says, nodding and letting out a shaky breath. Han leaving had only slapped him with something he had already known; Minho is like a cat. He does his own thing, befriends selectively and chooses when he wants to give affection. He was a loner, fending for himself and being perfectly fine with it. Until all of a sudden he wasn’t.   
“Minho,” She says gently, Minho looking at her clearly now. He had spaced out. “Separation is hard, but it doesn’t have to mean that your efforts have been wasted or that you are alone.” Minho gives her a weak smile at that, nodding and sniffling away the wave of realizations he’s been handed. He has so much to work on, but knowing what it is he has to tackle has him more confident in the journey to feeling okay again. He thinks that Han was right. He knows he was. If he wasn’t so thankful for the forced push, he would be annoyed at how true Han had been about it all. Minho just hopes he can feed the fish in his next session, now that he knows there will be one. 

Minho had to text Changbin as well as Hyunjin to relay the message of a therapy session success. He felt odd, tapping away to the people he’s been avoiding. He figures that therapy will help him unravel his emotions about them, too, but he can only focus on so much at a time. For now, he is choosing to focus on himself. When the message got to Han, Minho finally received a phone call. Han had immediately told him how proud he was, how he hopes he understands why he forced him into a tough position. Minho had agreed, even if through grumbles and a few eye rolls. Han had asked about keeping a routine of going, Minho telling him that he is currently planning to go once a week, smiling ear to ear when Han had praised him for thinking ahead.   
Minho had asked jokingly if he would receive a prize for doing as he was told, maybe a gold star or a star shaped pencil eraser. Han had offered to have Minho come over instead, and Minho was practically panting by the way his heart jumped. He wanted to see Han and only Han. Part of him knew that it would be best to share his time, to not rush back into possessiveness and that Han probably has his own reasons for not wanting to leave the house. So, Minho had agreed. Reluctantly.  
Han lets him into the apartment with a smile, Minho’s eyes landing immediately on Changbin and Hyunjin - both of them seated on the couch in a way that implies Han had been in between them. Minho feels his throat tighten at only a single chair left to take. He will have to sit apart from them or directly between them.   
Han ushers him in, telling him to sit and that the food will be done shortly. Minho sniffs, not having noticed the enticing smell thanks to his jealousy radar pinging loudly in his ears. He nods quietly, making his way to sit in the single chair, awkwardly taking out his phone and pretending to glance at it from time to time. He isn’t sure why he feels the need to fake anything, one look and anyone could tell how uncomfortable he is. They could tell how badly he wants to love and be loved by all of them again and how terribly he is struggling to accept that things change - things are different now and need to be addressed before they can begin to rebuild. Anyone can see how badly Minho wants that to happen but how he is too timid to apologize first.   
It feels entirely childish to him, but in many ways he feels betrayed. They didn’t tell him Han was home. They didn’t tell him Han was staying with them or how long it had been planned. Minho remembers hearing Han Jisung on the other end of his phone, how relieved he had been to think Han may have been close. To him, close hadn’t meant 30 minutes away for the past month and a bit. It had meant only a promise of reuniting. Minho has zoned out while looking at them, each boy looking to the other and pointing in question.   
Han calls them all to the table, plates set and food steaming. Minho’s stomach growls, suddenly remembering how little he’s eaten since Han has been home. He hasn’t focused much on it, on the way his ribs have been a bit more prominent or the way his arms have thinned after working a much less intensive job. He notices when he’s sitting next to Changbin, who looks to have gained muscle. Even Hyunjin, his long limbs toned rather than soft as he once knew them to be. Minho supposes that Hyunjin is a dancer and that’s an explanation- but Changbin and even Han, now that he’s thinking about it, have put on a bit of bulk. The thought of them working out together almost makes him lose his appetite.   
Once seated, the dinner conversation is light. There’s no sudden call outs from anyone. There’s no odd looks or shifting glares, just mundane conversation. Minho knows this isn’t how they are. He knows it’s because he is here, because he ruined what he had with his two friends over something that he learned to be best in the long run. When a lull hits them, only chewing and clicking of chopsticks against plates filling the air, Minho can’t contain himself anymore.   
“I understand why you did it.” He says, cheek half stuffed with food and his voice softly slurred to remain polite while speaking with a full mouth. “I’m trying my best to fully forgive you based on how I reacted and the reasons why I acted that way.” Minho says once his mouth is cleared, awkwardly sipping his glass of water while the three others look at him intensely. Han looks proud, Hyunjin and Changbin look shocked. Han smiles at him, a hint of a smirk showing through as he looks back to his plate to continue eating. Hyunjin and Changbin nod at him, unsure of how to respond. Han breathes out a soft chuckle, the two others glancing at each other and then to the table as a whole before Hyunjin clears his throat.  
“So, does anyone have free time this week?” He squeaks out, Han chuckling at his flustered reaction. Changbin coughs through choking, turning his head away from the table with a smile despite trying to keep his breath. Minho just smiles, more to himself than anyone else, and continues to eat.


	8. Chapter 8

“Minho,” Han says in a way that raises the pitch toward the end. Not quite a question, but almost asking itself if it was meant to be one. Minho looks at Han, who is sat on his small bed with Sydney nestled between his crossed legs. “I was thinking of visiting my friend Felix,” Han says cautiously. He wonders if Minho even remembers who that is or where he lives - wonders if Minho will respond poorly to being told Han is going all the way to Australia for a week. “If you have time-“  
“In Australia?” Minho asks, his head tilting a bit. He reaches up from his seat on the floor to pat the purring cat, his eyes focusing on Han. Han nods, continuing.  
“I got you a ticket to go, if you want to. I got it as your reward.” Han draws out, specifically referencing Minho’s teasing question earlier in the day. “It’s been planned for awhile, and I figured you’d end up going eventually, so…” Han trails off, Minho taking a moment to process the offer.   
“I can make time.” Minho smiles, his hand raising to impulsively pull down his sleeves at the mention of such a sunny place, but his hand finds only skin. His hives have been healed for a while now, but the habit is still burned into his mind. Han has noticed it, he used to pull his sleeves down whenever he was stressed or feeling a lot at once - good or bad. He still tries to do it, almost as if a way to hide himself from whatever he is feeling; only now it is more obvious that there’s no mandatory sleeves to pull on. Han gently pats the bed beside him, Minho moving himself to sit beside him quickly. “When are we going?” He asks, leaning back on his palms.   
“Two weeks. It will be winter there, so more like fall temperatures.” Han smiles gently at him. “I didn’t know if your hives would still be there, so,” Han looks away sheepishly, Minho leaning forward and looping his finger under Han’s chin to turn his head. Minho glances into Han’s eyes, suddenly very aware of how long it has been since he’s initiated anything so directly. Han just smiles at him, closing his eyes as silent encouragement. So, Minho swipes their noses together three times. Minho wishes he could say that something so simple doesn’t make his heart race. He wishes that he wouldn’t flush a deep red while it happens or that his hand wasn’t shaking gently beneath Han’s chin. Han doesn’t comment on it.   
“Han Jisung,” Minho mumbles, their faces still close. “I’m sorry.” He says, letting their foreheads knock together and his hand fall. “I’m sorry you had to scold me like a child. I’m sorry for everything I didn’t realize I was doing. I’m sorry for not realizing how bad I had gotten.” Minho lets out a shaky breath, he feels Han’s hand raise to rake through his hair. It does wonders to calm him, a sigh falling from his parted lips while he tries to hold back his tears.   
“We’ve both been through a lot, hyung,” Han says, twirling tufts of hair at the base of Minho’s neck. It sends chills through him.   
“But I feel so pathetic,” Minho starts, “You went through so much worse and I just malfunctioned over small shit compared to what you went through.” Minho huffs, Han pulling him away by his shoulders and forcing him to look him in the eye.   
“Lee Minho, never say that to me again.” He says sternly, Minho wanting to shrink in on himself at the look on his face. “Just because someone may have had worse doesn’t mean you aren’t allowed to feel anything you are now. Pain is not a competition, it doesn't matter how bad someone else may have things. You hurt. You went through shit that affected you. It is okay. You are allowed to feel, don’t make yourself feel worse because you think you shouldn’t feel anything at all.” His face falls as his grip tightens on Minho’s shoulders. Something in Han’s eyes tells him he’s speaking from experience, something about the way his eyes have glazed and the way he is practically kneading Minho’s shoulders to try and keep his attention. Minho presses his lips together, nodding curtly and sniffling. Han pulls him into a hug the best he can while twisted, nearly knocking the air from his lungs. Minho wraps his arms tightly around Han, running his hands over his back and letting himself know that everything is still real. Letting himself know that things are going to get better, even if he doesn’t know when. That Han is here, and he is too. He is so, so here right now, and it makes his head spin. They are here, together, in the same time and place and they are crying. They are holding one another tightly, they are on better terms and there is hope for them. Minho tries his best to not wet Han’s shirt.   
“Jisung,” Minho says, muffled by his mouth being buried in Han’s shoulder. “Please, can I just pretend?” He asks, wiping his face while he brings their faces together again. “I just want to pretend that I could.” He whispers, intently staring at Han’s trembling lips. Han just nods. Minho ghosts their lips together, close enough to feel faint warmth rather than the feeling of pressing them together. His eyes are closed, his heart is raging behind his ribs. He wants to lean in so badly, wants to go back to the normalcy he once knew.   
“I adore you,” Han says with a weak voice, both of his hands lacing into Minho’s hair while his palms hold the sides of his face. Minho lets out a breathy laugh, not bothering to wipe any of the falling tears and nodding quickly.   
“Me for you,” He says, unsure how broad of a statement he would be able to make without having Han react. They both pause, and for a second Minho thinks he may have triggered something in Han’s head. They way he tenses, the way he seems to become almost angry.   
“Fuck it.” Han says, Minho barely able to process the words before Han closes the small gap between them. It’s better than what he remembers, the softness of Han’s lips against his is an unparalleled feeling. He forces himself to let Han lead their movements, trusting that he will stop once it becomes too much. They move almost sloppily, out of practice and too eager for their own good. It’s almost messy, almost too much even for Minho; he almost wants to break off to settle his heart. He doesn’t though, there’s no way he will willingly give this feeling up.   
Somewhere in the distance, he hears a soft thump and then he’s suddenly being forced back onto his elbows, Han’s hands planted firmly beside him and leaving small indents on the bed. He can feel Han looming over him, he can practically feel the air vibrating around them. Minho lets himself lay flat on his back, his hands eagerly pulling Han closer by his waist. He doesn’t care if they go farther than this, he just needs everything he can get right now. The weight of Han above him, the feeling of Han’s dangling shirt dragging over his exposed skin, their quickly recovering rhythm of their mouths and his near ability to hear both of their heartbeats. He is drowning in everything Han, and he is entirely happy with being consumed by it.   
Han pulls away from him panting, both of their chests rising and falling heavily and staring at each other with a look that only the two of them can place.   
“Minho,” Han says, entirely for the sake of hearing it. Minho beams up at him, wrapping his arms around Han’s neck.   
“Again, please.” Minho asks, rubbing their noses together.   
“Lee Minho,” Han hums happily, dipping his head to leave a lingering kiss on Minho’s lips.   
“Han Jisung,” Minho says back, his thumbs running over the space where Han’s head is bent to look at him. “You know what I want to say, don’t you?” He asks, glancing to Han’s eyes. Han lights up with an almost sad smile and a soft nod.   
“Yeah, I know. Me for you.” They smile. Maybe they stay like that for awhile, maybe they kiss a few more times and maybe Han ends it by needing to empty his stomach in the bathroom - but maybe he tells Minho it’s entirely worth it. Maybe Minho is invited to spend the night, and maybe Minho politely turns it down, Han promptly telling him he’s proud and understands. A lot of work needs to be done, and Minho knows that the occasional sacrifice now will add up for the better. Maybe he doesn’t feel the need to call Han before going to bed. Maybe Han calls him anyway, just to say goodnight.


	9. Day 1

Two weeks later, after another two therapy sessions for Minho and his promise to return to the office once he is back from Australia, Minho is shocked to see Hyunjin and Changbin with packed bags alongside Han. He doesn’t know why he never thought to ask if they were going, but his first thought is about where Sydney is staying. He hopes Han has arrangements other than leaving her behind, but supposed that it’s Han and Han plans ahead.  
Minho leaves his truck in the spot he used to park in so often, loading into the car so they can groggily make it to the airport with some time to eat and make bathroom trips after going through security. Minho had woken up at 3am, anxiously showering and trying to level himself out before accidentally speeding his way to the apartment. Minho has never been on a plane. Not only that, but as much as he tries to hide it, he also has a crippling fear of heights. He packed sleeping pills to hopefully knock him out for the majority of the flight. None of the boys know this.  
The car ride is quiet, everyone still trying to stay awake but not too awake, wanting to be able to sleep on the plane rather than staying awake for hours on end with only the back of a seat in view.  
Checking through security is boring, aimless chatter amongst strangers around them and the occasional child being loud. Minho has never felt so rushed to put his shoes back on in his life. Han chuckles at him as he stumbles away from the line, trying to hop on one foot while sliding his other into his half-on shoe.  
The plane itself is something Minho expected to be bigger. His backpack hits the chairs he passes, his shoulders are shrugged in on themselves and the shuffle to get into his seat is tight to say the least. Once seated, happily not next to the window, Minho realizes that he’s likely going to have to sit next to a stranger. Han assures him that if he’s asleep it won’t matter anyway, that Minho can use him as a pillow and just hope their neighbor has headphones in case of snoring. Minho is easily soothed by that.  
He listens intently to the safety procedures, memorizing every word should he be woken up by screams or Han shaking him in a panic. He tightens his seatbelt tightly, praying to every god he can think of that he won’t need to get up and use the bathroom once they take off. Han gently draws his attention away from his wandering thoughts, telling him that it may be best to try and sleep during the initial take off so that he won’t have to deal with the what if’s. Minho denies him, wanting to at least be in the stages of smooth sailing before he sleeps, as long as Han promises to keep the window shield down. Han agrees, but promises to have him see what it’s like to soar above the clouds, promising it’s a sight worth seeing at least once in his life. Minho just grunts, mumbling something about it potentially being the last thing he sees - before dying of a heart attack. Han just chuckles at him, despite Minho’s swearing that it could very well happen.  
So, Minho sleeps the best he can. He leans the weight of his head on Han’s shoulder and breathes him in. He plays music in his earbuds, letting the combination of comfort lull him to a place more peaceful than his mind is telling him this plane is. In his dreams, Minho sees Han. He sees him laughing, he sees them together and happy. He sees his friends, just the way they were before things went wrong. He sees all of them surrounding him, helping him with some menial task that means more to him that it does to them. Han watches him smile in his sleep, tucking his head over Minho’s before letting himself sleep, too.  
Minho is in fact woken up to look out at the clouds, skeptical at first but happy once he sees them. Having slept so long, he is met with fluffy illuminated cotton out the window. Something in him stirs, the realization that seeing above the clouds for the first time is something special. It’s awe inspiring, it makes his heart race more out of amazement than fear - and beside the small opening to a new world, smiling at him, is his Han Jisung to make it all the better. Minho couldn’t be scared if he tried.  
Han looks out the window too, Minho’s eyes locking onto him and wishing he could see the wonderful scene playing over Han’s eyes, reflected clouds passing over his pupils and content face. Minho turns his body to Han, twisting against the still tight belt around his hips, his hand raising to touch Han’s face. In the quiet cabin of the plane, they just look at each other. The light from the open window lights Han in an almost glazed yellow light compared to the cold blue surrounding them and the sleeping passengers of the plane. And he smiles. So Minho kisses him. It’s soft, well received and makes his chest ache in a way Minho hasn’t felt in a long time. Han whispers for him to sleep again, that they still have a bit to go and that he’ll need his energy when they land. Minho nods dumbly, protesting Han closing the window shutter by gently stopping his hand. He rests his head on Han again, his eyes glued to the almost stationary clouds. Han kisses the top of his head, and Minho falls asleep again shortly after, comfortable in knowing that at least he’d die happy should anything go wrong. 

Han had been right. When a large black car rolled to park in front of them at the entrance of the airport, Minho had realized exactly why Han said he’d need his energy. From the passenger side door had emerged a bubbly, hyper, freckle faced boy who immediately crushed Han into a hug. From the driver side came a calmer but still excited older-looking boy, who politely began offering to help load the baggage into the trunk. He had spoken to Minho in practically perfect Korean - and became rather sheepish when Minho complimented him on it. He had waved his hands, telling him that he grew up speaking it and that his siblings have had more practice than he has, even though they are younger. Minho watches Changbin move to help him, Hyunjin and Han trying to catch up with who Minho assumes is Felix out of the two blondes. Minho remembers that Han told him Felix had come during school days as an exchange student - so of course Hyunjin must know him. He thinks for a moment that he may be the only person who doesn’t know Felix. His thoughts are eased when he catches Changbin giving him a few too many glances for someone who is comfortable - Minho wants to huddle with him and wait for proper introductions.  
In the car, the driver - who Minho has learned is Chris or Chan depending on what they want - is Felix’s roommate. He told them that he will be going to visit family for the week they are here and that they are welcome to sleep in his room. Felix had piped up from the side, telling them that one person can sleep in his room with him, two in Chan’s room, and one on the couch. He also said that rotating throughout the week is fine, too, so that no one person gets stuck on the couch for a whole week. Changbin had looked uncomfortable beside Minho then, and Minho was quick to assume that he’d rather room with Hyunjin. Minho couldn’t blame him. 

Once inside the apartment, the six of them slump into a pile of bodies on the couch and other furniture, Felix, Han and Hyunjin jabbering away while Chan makes small talk with Changbin and Minho is left to sit quietly and watch. He watches how Changbin will shift and steal glances at the wide smile Felix wears or whenever a particularly loud laugh emerges from him. Minho thinks that he may be something other than uncomfortable - he remembers how he would look at Han just for the feeling it gave him. How they wouldn’t talk about it despite both of them knowing it had happened and how Felix has definitely caught Changbin looking a few times but acted as if he hadn’t. So, Minho looks at Han. He looks at the way he is squished between the two friends who are partially leaning over him for the sake of annoyance and making him laugh. Minho feels himself smile, mirroring the way Han’s eyes nearly close and how his laugh shakes him from the couch. From what Minho knows, Felix is oblivious as to how surreal it feels to be looking at him like this. He doesn’t know the pain or worry that had extended for so long, doesn’t know how Minho came to be involved with the mutual friends or how desperately he is trying not to cry because he is on the sidelines. Minho shakes that thought away, opting to instead steal a few photos of everyone.  
During the time Han had been gone, Minho finally understood. He understood Han’s love and near need to take photos of people he cares about. He understood how close to crucial it was to have immortalized moments to look back on, how desperate he had been to have had videos of Han simply existing - just to remember how things had been. So, he takes a video. It is mainly focussed on Han and his gummy smile, the sound of his laugh and how he interacts with the others. He gives everyone a bit of candid screen time, however, should Minho have the chance to grow close with some and rekindle with others, he will have evidence of the day it all began. Minho puts his phone away smiling again. For now, he is happy to observe. 

Talking to Chan made Minho’s anxieties simmer out after hours of Han paying him near to no mind. He had asked how they met, laughing at Han’s stupid joke about wasp killer and asking him how he had managed to create a friendship from something as cheesy as that had been. Minho had only grinned at him, assuring him that it seemingly just took off. When Chan had referred to them as only a friendship, though, Minho had to choke down his immediate defense. They must be more, now, right? They always have been in a way. Minho had to remind himself that if Felix doesn’t know about what had gone on, how could Chan? So instead, he simply didn’t correct him, since he technically wasn’t wrong. They’ve never been anything with a title to them, they’ve just always been Han and Minho. Despite the handful of kisses and one moment in time where there was nearly something more, it is all they have ever been. Minho hadn’t thought about it much, but now that it had been placed in front of him, he desperately wants to change their status more than ever. He doesn’t want to hide affections, not after everything they’ve gone through. Not while they’re each actively working to undo those things for the sake of becoming more one day - hopefully a day in the near future. Sure, Minho has been in a few fleeting relationships in the past; but even before he needed therapy he realized that there would never be anyone as significant to him as his Han Jisung. Minho isn’t sure what it is about him, but his attempt to ignore the strong hold and pull of Han became useless very quickly. Han became the person he had fallen in love with the fastest and the person he’s managed to stay in love with the longest, even while he was gone. Minho regrets ever wanting that feeling to stop. 

After a long day of introductions, relaxing, bonding over movies, games and ordering takeout, Minho finally makes his rounds to Han. He does it almost cautiously, sitting tentatively beside Han in a way that isn’t too obviously desperate for his attention.  
“You wanted to come here for your birthday.” Minho states, smiling softly at the realization he had had in one of his many quiet moments today. Han just nods, an almost shy smile creeping over him. He had realized after remembering how close to Han’s birthday it had been when he had disappeared, how upset he had been that he couldn’t take him on the trip he was planning in hopes of making his mark on the boy’s heart. “It’s almost September,” Minho says, Han chuckling.  
“This was the only free week for everyone who came. I consider it an early gift to myself.” Han hums, leaning back in his seat and smiling at the way Minho’s head turns to keep his eyes on him. At this point, Chan has gone to work and Hyunjin and Changbin are unpacking diligently two rooms over, the occasional thud or bickering heard through the closed door. Felix left for the store not too long ago, and so Minho decided to take his time with Han while he could.  
“Felix seems great,” Minho says passively, not really having had the chance to speak with him much. Han’s face softens as he nods.  
“He’s one of my oldest friends. He means a lot to me,” Han hesitates, lowering his voice. “I haven’t had the heart to tell him, yet.” Minho nods at that, leaning back against the couch now, as well, and leaving a gentle kiss to the side of Han’s head.  
“Don’t feel like you have to, this week is meant to be happy and fun and if you think it will ruin that,” Minho makes a shooing motion with one hand, Han nodding and leaning his weight into Minho’s shoulder. Minho smiles, wrapping his arm around Han’s shoulders and squeezing him lightly.  
“You’re doing really well, Minho,” Han says quietly, his hushed voice almost directly in Minho’s ear. “I’m not ignoring you to be mean.” Han says, Minho nodding a bit too quickly to seem entirely convincing.  
“I know I need to work on being possessive and stuff, I just wish it didn’t suck so much to work on.” Minho whines, emphasizing his pout just to see Han smile at him. “What can I say? I want you all for myself,” Minho teases, leaning toward Han’s face while Han withdraws, giggles bubbling over and a playful slap is landed to Minho’s chest. “Any sane person would want that,” Minho states, Han flushing a lovely shade of pink while a small sound of protest escapes him. Minho just smiles, nosing his way into Han’s neck and sighing happily. If he could describe the feeling Han gives him when they’re like this, Minho would try and tell you that it is comparable to listening to your favorite song for the first time. He may try and tell you that it brings him the same peace that a thunderstorm may, or that any sort of physical contact with Han Jisung is addictive. He may also compare it to nights before any large event, where you are tired and are too excited to sleep; he is so comfortable but he doesn’t want to waste the time he has to feel Han under his fingertips. Don’t even get him started on Han’s laugh or his kisses.  
“I mean it, though,” Han chides, no longer leaning away from him. “You’re already making a lot of progress.” He says, Minho feeling his face heat up. Even though Han knows that the message is received well and kept in his heart, he still rolls his eyes when Minho tells him he sounds like his therapist. It earns him another playful slap just before the bedroom door opens, showing a grumpy looking Hyunjin. He whines to Han that he wants Han to be his roommate, that Changbin talks in his sleep and that he should make Felix deal with it, instead. Changbin can be heard protesting from inside the room, so Han gives Minho an apologetic look before standing and ushering them back into the bedroom to level out the situation. Minho feels a small ache in his chest from the sudden loneliness, but he chuckles nonetheless picturing how motherly Han had seemed and how he needed to calm his fighting children. 

“Listen,” Felix says in his still surprisingly deep voice. Minho had noticed it right away, how it contrasted with his nearly feminine features and soft hearted personality. “I don’t care who sleeps where, but can we please go to bed?” He asks, slumping his shoulders and letting his arms hang dramatically. Hyunjin opens his mouth to complain about Changbin again, about how he lives with him and this is meant to be a vacation. It makes Han snicker, telling him that he lives with them, too, and that they’re bound to all overlap eventually. After a moment of back and forth Felix straightens himself abruptly, everyone looking at him with the hope of not being too annoying. Felix grabs the arm of the person nearest to him - Changbin - and pulls the poor confused looking boy up from his seat. “I’m taking him and I’m going to bed.” He grumbles, Hyunjin smiling to himself as well as an almost afraid looking Changbin, who is being quite literally dragged down the short hallway and being pushed into the bedroom. The door to Felix’s room shuts, opening again after a short moment. Felix’s head pops out of the doorway, his eyes a bit puffy and his face now in a weak looking smile. “Goodnight, I love you all.” He says, voice laced with sleep already. From somewhere in the room, Changbin’s quiet call of ‘me too’ can be heard, making everyone - including Minho - smile.  
Once the door is shut again, Minho looks to the others, silently sitting on the couch as a way to claim it without issue. Han and Hyunjin say their own soft well wishes of good dreams, shuffling into their own shared room with waves and the flick of a lightswitch to the living room. Minho is left alone in the dark, his only solace being a small lamp on the corner table should he want it. Minho is glad to have already showered and changed, laying himself back onto his pillow from home and sliding the borrowed quilt over his body. In the dark like this, with an almost too quiet space, Minho replays Felix’s words. Good night, I love you all. He is happy to be included in the love, but god. Watching someone tell Han that they love him and seeing Han react as if he never had any issue with the words made something in him boil. His blood, the overflowing hotpot of emotions inside of him. Minho sighs heavily, rolling to lay on his side. He wants to be able to tell Han he loves him for real, this time. He wants to repeat it over and over like a programmed robot with only one setting. He wants to scream it, whisper it into his hair, anything more than what he has been able to do. Imagining it scares him, but he knows by now that Han knows how to handle most scenarios like this. He’s seen it happen more than once; how Han will always go weak in the bad way and need to be caught halfway to not hurt himself. Regardless, the simple, soft gesture from Felix makes him shove his face into his pillow and try not to yell his frustrations. He manages to fall asleep after saying it over and over in his mind, hoping that somehow the confession will make its way into Han’s mind.


	10. Day 2

On the second day, Felix made everyone breakfast. He told everyone as they ate that he intended to bring them to the beach, and Han had noticed immediately the way Minho pulled at his phantom sleeves. Although the temperatures are lower than what they usually are due to it technically being winter of sorts, the day was expected to reach a toasty temperature compared to the rest of the week and Felix dare not waste it. Hyunjin seemed excited, clapping with stuffed cheeks and trying to tell them he loves the beach through a full mouth. Changbin had looked at Felix with an expression Minho couldn’t quite read, but told everyone at the table he would like to go despite the look on his face. Han, with his cheeks full to the brim, manages to clearly squeak out a happy declaration of his excitement, shoveling the few remaining scraps on his plate into his mouth before bringing his plate to the sink and scurrying to find his swimming gear. Felix had chuckled at his actions, informing the rest of them that Chan would also be attending, for the sake of two translators and for the simple fact that his family lives nearby and won’t mind.   
So, they set off after everyone had finished and changed. Everyone had chosen light colored shirts to wear with their various colored swim trunks and Hyunjin happily showed his matching sunglasses he had brought specifically for this purpose. Han had teased him, but when Hyunjin had pouted in the car Changbin told him that he looks cool and all was well again. Felix picked Chan up on the way to the beach, the oldest boy piling in with extra sunscreen and two towels just in case. Minho watched the passing trees, the bright green against the blue of the sky making him squint. The sun had found its place high in the sky not long ago, beating down on the car and fighting Felix’s air conditioning to the best of its abilities. The bit of warmth makes his skin feel almost too sensitive, phantom itches where his shirt hugs him and where his forearms are being assaulted by the varying conditions.   
He doesn’t know if it’s the faint memory of going into shock, the pure temperatures fighting for dominance or the way his shirt sticks to him that has him so on edge. Maybe it’s none of those things, he thinks, maybe it’s because he isn’t sitting with Han. All of those options seem logical to him.   
Once the boys pile out of the cramped car, they pay for the parking meter and are quickly ushered to ‘the best spot’ Felix knows. Chan agrees that it is the best, bringing up the rear of the group so no one gets lost on their trek into the sand. Minho can’t help but pull his arms to rest under his towel, crossing them over his chest and forcing a tight lipped smile at Han when he turns in notice. Changbin, beside him, notices too. He switches which hand is carrying his discarded flip flops, adjusting the towel over his shoulder while ducking his head toward Minho’s ear.   
“Are you okay?” He asks quietly, the sound of genuine concern nearly making Minho flush.   
“I guess my arms are still sensitive or something,” Minho says, brushing off the topic as if his arms didn’t feel bruised beneath the shade he’s created. Changbin nods, patting the pocket of his swim trunks and giving Minho a small smile.   
“We’ll make sure you’re always covered.” He says, Minho smiling at the way he had tapped the full bottle of sunscreen. He didn’t see it before, so he assumes Chan must have traded it off to the one with pockets rather than trying to hold everything at once. Minho bumps his shoulder into Changbin’s broader one, saying something about how he’s paler than everyone here and he’d need it most regardless. Changbin laughs at that, raising the pitch of his voice to imitate Hyunjin saying ‘I need to protect my skin! I don’t want wrinkles!’ Hyunjin whips his head around, promising Changbin he’ll regret not listening to him once he starts to look older from failing to reapply every two hours. Everyone laughs at that. 

Minho is alone. He is sitting in the shade of the umbrella Felix had hauled along, watching five muscular forms splash around in the ocean. At first, he had fully intended to join. Once shirts came off and it was made clear that no one other than him had been slacking in the work out department, he quickly brushed his hesitance off as his skin being sensitive. He couldn’t ignore the abs of Felix or Chan, or the way Hyunjin’s back seemed too toned for a dancer, or even the way Changbin’s arms and chest made up for not having abs, himself. During his rough patch, Minho knew he had lost weight. He knew that inherently that meant he had lost muscle definition as well, but he couldn’t make himself stand to compare the way everyone else looked next to him. Even Han, who Minho doesn’t remember ever working out as long as he’s known him, has put on a nice form for himself. His arms are bigger, his stomach flatter, and his thighs look strong and capable of doing more than a few squats. It makes Minho frown. Well, it makes his face frown and his heart flutter. They all look so good, and Minho feels as if he looks so-so. At best. So, he watches.   
He watches how happy they all seem, how the water beads over Han’s shoulders and how his hair sticks to his head just to be pushed back. He watches how Hyunjin yells whenever Changbin splashes him and how Felix and Chan laze around on their boogie boards, laughing at the chaos. He watches, until Han calls out to him. Minho tries to say no, tries to protest even as Han wades his way back to shore and marches his way to Minho. He tries to seem annoyed, chiding at Han as the sand that kicked up onto his legs falls onto his towel or how his hair is dripping over his legs. He tries to stop Han pulling him up from his seat, adding a groan of annoyance for the best attempt at keeping what bit of confidence he has left. He tries not to combust when Han simply tells him to lift his arms, that he will help him in taking off his shirt and doubling up on sunscreen. With the promise of Han undressing him and rubbing his hands over him, Minho is easily - but begrudgingly - swayed.   
Han makes quick work of it, Minho is just glad that Han is blocking the view of his face from the others. He can’t help his red cheeks or the way his eyes move to look away, he tries to ignore how blatantly obvious Han is about looking him up and down. He tries even harder to ignore the way Han clears his throat before asking him to turn so he can reach his back for him. Minho is convinced it warmed up all of a sudden.   
Minho turns, his mind hearing Han tell him that it will be cold but his body flinching away despite the warning. He hadn’t lied about being sensitive. Han shushes him, moving his hands over his shoulders and up to his neck. Minho wants to hide, even turned away like this, even after Han had seemingly been happy to see him without a shirt. Han must be able to tell that his tensed shoulders are the result of more than the cold glide of his hands, because the sound of Han’s voice is close to his ear and his hands are stilled at his hips.   
“I know what you’re thinking,” He muses, resting his chin on the now sticky surface of Minho’s skin. Minho hums, encouraging him to try and guess. “If it helps, this is the first time in a long time that I’ve seen you shirtless.” Han continues, gently squeezing Minho’s hips. Minho understands why Han likes it so much, now that it is being done to him. “And if we weren’t here right now, I’d tell you that I’m asking again.”   
Minho blinks, slowly turning his head to look at a grinning Han whose arms wrap around his waist with ease. His burning cheeks are evident, Han’s eyes flickering from the rosy tint to his lips before landing on his eyes.   
“And as true as that last statement is,” Han says, leaving a kiss on Minho’s shoulder, “I understand why you feel down about it. Why don’t you come work out with Bin and I sometime, hm?” He offers, Minho already feeling the tears brim. He’s thought this way before, and he’s sure he will again. He wants to thank any and every god for finding someone who knows him so well. Han softens at the glossy eyes, kissing the side of Minho’s head as he nods in agreeance. “Changbin’s a bit of a hard ass when it comes to training, but he means well.” Han says, letting go of Minho to make him turn back around.   
“What if he doesn’t want to help me?” Minho asks, a sniffle escaping him while the salty breeze fluffs his hair. Han chuckles, kissing Minho’s forehead and holding his face between his hands.   
“He misses you, Minho. They both do.” Han says gently, Minho nodding in shame and looking away from Han’s eyes again. “I missed you most, though.” Han says in a teasing tone, Minho letting out a wet laugh and looking up at Han with moon shaped eyes.   
“I missed you more. Now finish putting this shit on me so we can play chicken.” Minho says, holding his arms out. Han rolls his eyes, telling Minho that he is only agreeing because they need an even amount of players as well as a referee and spotter. Minho chuckles at his excuse, asking him if he’s sure that he doesn’t just want an excuse to feel him up in public. When Han stays quiet, Minho remains smug on their way down to the water. 

At the apartment, after the group dropped Chan off and had almost too much food for the five of them to handle, everyone is lounging around the living room while some random action movie plays. Luckily for most of them, the subtitles were available in Korean so they at least know what’s going on between characters.   
Minho is trying his best to not force himself between Hyunjin and Han, who are cozied up under a shared blanket and watching the scene intently. He is instead sat beside Changbin, who has been nice enough to lend his shoulder as a pillow for Minho’s tired body. Felix is sitting alone but seemingly fine with it, sprawled out on a large reclining chair with his legs hanging over one of the arms and a small pillow hugged against him. All in all, everyone seems content. Everyone except maybe Changbin, who Minho continues to catch looking not at Felix - but at the pillow he is holding. Minho is sure that Changbin has something for the sweet looking boy, and Minho can’t blame him. By the look of it, he could say the same for Felix. Honestly, he can’t blame Felix either. They seem entirely complementary. Changbin is usually more reserved unless with his good friends whereas Felix has been bouncing off the walls since they all arrived. Felix is more slight in frame, even a bit taller than Changbin with light hair and a sharp face. Changbin is broader, bulkier, with a rounder face and practically black hair. Minho wonders what people would say about himself and Han. Hyunjin makes a noise as he stretches both his arms and legs, making everyone turn their attention to him for a moment before he apologizes with a yawn. He quietly declares that he will be the first to shower and head off to bed, wishing everyone sweet dreams and letting himself lock eyes with Minho for a moment longer than he means to once he’s stood in the hallway. ‘He misses you. They both do.’   
Once the movie ends and Felix and Han prepare to shower as well, Changbin and Minho are left to themselves on the couch. Minho keeps repeating Han’s words to him, trying to level out the unreasonable anxiety he is feeling while sitting beside his old friend in silence. They both wait for the other to speak, neither of them moving from their positions or looking at the other. Changbin is the first to break the tense atmosphere.   
“I heard you’ll be joining our gym days, huh?” He asks, glancing at Minho with an uncharacteristically nervous expression. Minho just nods.   
“I heard you’re a bit of a hard ass.” Minho says, Changbin breathing out a chuckle in response.   
“Only when Han whines about the amount of reps I have set for him.” He declares, Minho smiling at the imagery in his head. “I, uh,” Changbin starts, looking a bit sheepish again. Minho understands that look right away. It’s the look that gives away whenever Changbin wants to talk about something serious. He has seen it so many times, mostly during the days when Minho had cried on the floor of his apartment or on days where they had come to ease his pain at the house. It almost makes Minho nervous, but he is sure he knows what Changbin is going to say. So, he beats him to it.   
“I’ll be glad to spend more time with you,” Minho says, Changbin smirking to himself as a way to hide his amusement. “Binnie.” Minho finishes quieter than before, feeling relieved when Changbin looks into his eyes for the first time in what feels like forever.   
“Yeah,” Changbin says, breaking into another smile. He pats Minho’s thigh twice. “Me too.” He says, standing. He stretches, handing Minho his pillow that had been moved aside and pulling the blanket down from the back of the couch for him. Minho smiles at him as he heads to the hallway, meeting his eyes again when he stops to look over his shoulder. “Good night.” Changbin says, hand hovering over the light switch.   
“Goodnight, Binnie.” Minho says, leaning back onto his pillow and giving him a small wave. Changbin turns off the light.


	11. Day 3

Day three had been determined as a day for sightseeing and shopping. Felix was happy to bring the boys to all of his favorite places, including a trip for an activity he affectionately called ‘sand surfing.’ The boys had had plenty of fun sliding down dunes and laughing at Hyunjin’s long legs getting caught up beneath him, causing him to fumble more often than slide. Eventually Hyunjin had given up, deciding to cave and use the boogie board from Felix’s car that had been left from yesterday. Even Minho had had fun, able to ignore the scratching sand on his skin and the amounts that would fall out when he would shake his shirt. Felix had stood back, ensuring no one got too ahead of themselves and took a hard tumble. He smiled at all of them fondly, even through his sunglasses Minho was able to guess how his eyes were crinkling by the wideness of his smile, his sharp teeth on display. If Minho didn’t know any better, didn’t know that his eyes were the tell tale sign of softness, it would almost seem like a snarl. Han had stolen the board from Hyunjin, begged Minho to ride down the largest dune with him and only after Felix encouraged it did Minho comply. Minho wasn’t sure why he felt as if he needed Felix’s permission to be close to Han, he assumed it may have been because they are best friends - it is only natural for Minho to want Felix’s approval. Han has known Felix since childhood, of course his best friend’s opinion will matter. Minho had made a mental note then to make sure to actually talk to the boy before they left at the end of the week.   
After thoroughly exhausting themselves, the boys found themselves at a shaved ice shop, where poor Felix had to translate their orders. Almost everyone’s, considering Hyunjin and Han decided that they wanted to practice their English in a real life scenario. Hyunjin’s voice sounded oddly endearing to Minho, the pitch of his voice practically the same if not slightly higher when speaking in his non-native language. Han and Felix had told him he did well, Changbin and Minho doing so afterward as well, despite not being able to understand what he had said.   
Hearing Han speak so confidently in English made Minho wonder how long he had been learning. From the hint of an accent of certain words, he quickly assumed that Felix had helped him in exchange for help in Korean. The thought of it made him smile, wondering if they had met through language exchange programs - they were common when even he was in school, so it would make sense. He imagined young Han and Felix writing to each other in terrible forms of their in-progress language, probably so happy to finally meet during the exchange program and take the photo in the airport that Minho had seen in Han’s room so long ago. 

Shopping trips began with Minho taking initiative. He huddled to Felix, who happily helped him pick out clothes that Minho wouldn’t pick for himself. Han and Hyunjin had dragged Changbin to a store across the way, Felix making them promise to meet up in a certain spot afterward and trusting the combined English between the two of them to have the three of them go off alone. Felix also asked for Minho’s favorites from the outfits he chose - Minho had even gone so far as to tease him about the outfits being so similar that it was becoming hard to choose. Felix had gently hit his arm for it, ushering him away to the dressing rooms to seal the deal on what may or may not fit. When Felix suggests that they share a dressing room, Minho almost gets angry. He almost yells in his face over the immediate fear that washes over him, not wanting Felix to have to see him actually undressed even if he promises to turn around. After a bit of internal debate while just staring at a smiling, good-intent Felix, Minho mumbles an okay.   
In the dressing room, Minho didn’t even have to ask Felix to turn. They each avoid the many mirrors and Felix would ask for a countdown to reveal his outfits for the sake of being dramatic. Minho couldn’t help but glance at himself, though, finding a much bonier version of himself than he had even realized. His collarbones, his hips nearly forming a gap between his pelvis and his pants. He looks almost dainty, not quite sick. It’s not as if he had gained weight, he had actually thought originally that he looked heavier until now. Minho supposes nearly a year of avoiding mirrors could lead to that assumption. He simply looks lean, he could stand to tone up or gain muscle, sure, but he believes Han a bit more than he had hours ago when he said that he still looked okay. He doesn’t realize that he’s spaced out, shirt still in hand while his eyes continue to roam over his unfamiliar appearance. When Felix doesn’t hear rustling, he sneaks a tiny peek into the mirror to check on him. Felix’s shirt is on but unbuttoned, hanging off of him in a much tighter fit than he is used to. Minho can’t help but look as he turns, watching the defined stomach twist as he looks at him. He can’t help but admire the tanned skin, the freckles peeking out from the fabric over his shoulders or the way he suddenly isn’t moving anymore.   
“Minho?” Felix asks, his deep voice almost making his concern sound accusatory. Minho blinks, looking up to the gently furrowed brows and serious eyes. Minho flushes.   
“I’m sorry for looking at you,” Minho apologizes quickly, Felix’s face softening.  
“Wait, hyung, I’m not angry,” Felix says with a softening face, a hint of confusion in his voice. Minho almost feels amiss being called Hyung by Felix, even though he is Korean and even though he is in fact the same age as Han. A day younger due to time zones, he’s heard the story plenty of times to logically understand. “I’m not angry at you.” Felix repeats, stepping closer and using a hushed voice. “Are you okay?” He asks, placing his small hand over Minho’s. Minho almost questions why until he looks down at the shirt balled in his fists, his knuckles white from the pressure of squeezing it so tightly. “Did I make you uncomfortable, Hyung?” Felix sounds so, so sad. So guilty. Minho wants to cry because in a way, he did. It was by no fault of his own, this was Minho agreeing and making the stupid decision to look at the body he didn’t have.   
Minho tries to form an explanation, tries to stop the second flow of tears today. When it doesn’t work, Felix is quick to shush him.   
“Hey, hey, Minho,” He says, Minho liking the sound of his name in such a deep voice. It brings a certain level of comfort with it, like being wrapped in a quilt or being crushed in a hug. “Can I touch you? Is that okay? I know your skin is sensitive and you don’t have a shirt - do you want me to button this? Can I to-” Felix rambles, making Minho just nod quickly. He knows Felix isn’t going to do anything to him. He knows Felix is asking out of the good of his heart before hugging him. Minho could tell he wanted to from the moment the first tear fell, Felix’s first instinct had been to open his arms a bit and move toward him - but he had stopped to ask. As soon as Felix can process Minho’s nodding, he wraps both of his hands around Minho’s, gently removing the shirt before the buttons can hurt him and tossing it onto one of the benches. He gently pulls Minho into a hug, the skin on skin contact almost feeling scandalous until Minho remembers the reason for this hug in the first place. He is crying. He upset himself. And Felix didn’t think twice about hugging him, not even for a second - he just saw that Minho needed some form of support and didn’t worry about anything regarding their clothes. Or lack thereof. To be fair, the only shirtless one is Minho. Only a small part of Felix is exposed other than his arms, and to be frank, neither of them could consider this as anything other than helpful even if they tried.   
“I’m sorry,” Minho cries, hiding his reddening face in the space Felix makes for him. “I swear I never usually cry in dressing rooms.” Minho tries to joke, even though it is technically the truth. Minho used to love finding new clothes.   
“Don’t apologize, you don’t have to talk at all,” Felix soothes, gently rocking them side to side. Minho feels almost babied, almost as if Felix is being too gentle with him. Almost too intimate for someone he’s only really talked to in the past hour or so. “We can talk after you calm down. Keep your breath, let it out,” Felix continues, rubbing his hand up and down the length of Minho’s nearly protruding spine. The contact feels so nice, so comforting to finally be held after going so long without anyone touching him at all. So, Minho cries harder. He hates how it almost feels like a new sensation, how it almost feels foriegn and how he is almost tempted to pull away from the affection simply because he worries it may be forced despite being offered. “Do you want to sit? Just nod if you do,” Felix says, his fingertips leaving goosebumps in their wake. Minho does, but he doesn’t. He feels so weak, but he really wants to continue being held. He is afraid he may break apart if Felix stops. Felix notices the time it takes for Minho to dwell on it, bringing his hand up to hold the back on his head just in case Minho’s movement may have been too small to notice. “If you don’t mind it, you can sit on my lap? Or beside me?” Felix asks, Minho finally moving his head to form a nonverbal yes. So, Felix backs them up in a slow waddle, sitting himself on the bench behind him and waiting to see where Minho moves himself. Minho places himself beside Felix, immediately wishing he had taken the spot closest to his warmth. Felix, much like Han, is quick to pick up on the way his mind works. Felix moves to kneel in front of him, the low bench nearly allowing them to be eye to eye with one another. Felix wipes his tears, Minho holding on to his forearms for any contact he can get.   
“Please touch me,” Minho nearly whimpers. Neither of them read the sentence wrong. Nothing feels suggestive. He can see the look in Felix’s eye, and nowhere does it suggest that this is anything more than face value. Minho finds it all the more comfortable. Felix nods, the pads of his thumbs trailing gently beneath his eyes before he moves to pull them together again. Felix is on one knee for leverage, Minho leaning forward on the bench to feel as much as possible - to feel anything other than the ache in his chest. “This is good.” Minho sniffles, his arms looped around Felix’s neck. Felix nods into his neck, the feeling of it against his bare skin almost tickles.   
“Are you okay?” Felix asks, the sound a bit muffled but close enough to his ear to understand.   
“I’m only okay,” Minho says, his voice monotone and his eyes burning. “I’m no more than that.” Minho says, his fingers pressing into Felix’s back. Felix moves away to look him in the eye, the stern look returning despite his own trail of tears staining his cheeks. ‘Empathetic bastard,’ Minho thinks. Fondly, of course.   
“Minho, Han loves you.” Felix says. “Everyone that came with you loves you.” He specifies, almost seeming hurt that Minho could ever feel such a way that could suggest otherwise. “We just met and we are hugging shirtless in a changing room. So clearly, even I care.” Felix smiles a bit, Minho’s mouth turning up slightly at the corners. Felix isn’t wrong. “I wouldn’t do this for just anyone,” He continues, wiping Minho’s face once again. “You mean the world to my best friend. I used to get messages from him when you guys first met.” The information isn’t surprising to Minho, but he blushes nonetheless.   
“Please tell me they were good things,” Minho says, no longer crying and instead fighting off a sheepish smile. Felix laughs.   
“Trust me, I practically felt like I was in love with you by proxy.” Felix teases, still kneeling and still keeping Minho in the moment by keeping at least one point of contact at all times. Minho doesn’t care that he’s shirtless anymore. “Minho, you are so much more than okay. You are more than okay to everyone that you worry may not feel that way.” Felix gently shakes Minho’s head for emphasis. “I know things happened - I don’t know specifics - but I know that no one wants to see you fail. They, including myself, want to see you healed and feeling like your normal self again. I know you’ve been working on it. I know that it’s been hard, but I am rooting for you. Okay? We all are. Don’t feel like an outsider in your own life.” Don’t feel like an outsider in your own life. God, Minho could kiss him. Felix’s words had been spot on, touching on everything he needed to hear. Don’t feel like an outsider in your own life. Minho just stares at Felix, Felix holding the gaze just as intensely. Minho could kiss him. He won’t, he doesn’t particularly want to, but the way his heart feels over-inflated rather than a bottomless pit after hearing Felix’s encouragement is no small feat. Is this how Han felt on top of his truck? Is this the same feeling that started the three swipes at his nose that he loves so much? Minho is convinced it must be.   
So, Minho leans in. It’s not a large gap to close, and it is no surprise when Felix moves away in confusion.   
“I’m not kissing you.” Minho whispers. Felix smiles, apparently understanding the gesture right away. Well, Minho supposes, he is best friends with Han Jisung. He’s probably received this method of thanks before. Three small swipes are exchanged, Felix ruffling Minho’s hair afterward for good measure. “Thank you.” Minho says, looking at Felix with stars in his eyes. Felix stands and offers a hand out to him, pulling him up from the bench and handing him the discarded shirt.   
“Don’t mention it. You needed to hear it.” Felix smiles, busying himself with buttoning the still open shirt. Minho is still dazed from the interaction. Felix gestures with his elbow to the shirt in his hands, raising his eyebrows. “Well, try it on,” He says with another wide smile. “I’ll tell you if it looks like a good fit.” Felix emphasizes the ‘I’, ensuring Minho doesn’t skip out on buying things simply because of his own insecurity bias. Minho blushes and rolls his eyes. Neither of them feel the need to turn around, this time. Felix keeps him talking, keeps his attention away from the mirrors until it is time to judge the outfit. Minho is glad for it. 

Minho began to look at all of the boys in a different light after that. He noticed how attentive they were, no matter how subtle. He began noticing the glances and the closeness they would all keep. Walking, in the car, in his general space. It almost felt like they were trying to see how close they could get before he would make them stop, and now he’s sure he doesn’t want them to. He wants them to be closer, he wants them to stick around and to suffocate him with their fondness. Even if he pretends not to like it. Even if he whines about being under a pile of affection, he wouldn’t want it to stop.   
Back at the house, tensions are high. Everyone can feel it, but no one can pinpoint why. Even Hyunjin, who hasn’t particularly been involved in the revelations Minho has gone through. Everyone is looking at everyone else in a different way, in no way bad. If Minho had to guess, he would think Hyunjin and Han had a talk. Maybe all three of them. He and Felix certainly did. Even Changbin and Felix seem tense around each other. The whole apartment is buzzing, filled with an odd sense of peace paired with something Minho can’t put his finger on.   
Hyunjin had decided to make himself the center of attention, trying to ease the air by making everyone laugh before bed. It helps, everyone parting ways at the end of the night with smiles and even Minho feeling content despite being alone on the couch. Until he isn’t. He doesn’t know how much time has passed when he hears a door creak open, soft padding footsteps approaching the living room without any lights coming on. Minho turns his head to look, the silhouette of bouncing hair giving the mystery away immediately.   
“Are you awake?” Han asks in a whisper, Minho humming back quietly in response. “Can’t sleep.” Han sighs, placing himself beside Minho who sits himself up to make room. Even in the darkness, Minho can feel Han looking at him. It feels so familiar, it makes Minho’s head spin.   
“Can I tell you something?” Minho asks, sitting upright to be closer to him. Han hums, because of course he can. He doesn’t need to ask. “Felix is a great person.” Minho says, chuckling lightly when Han makes a sound resembling ‘well, duh.’ “He told me what you can’t,” Minho says, pushing his strewn hair out of his face as if it may make a difference in his vision. “You know, me for you.” Han is quiet, but Minho can feel him smiling.   
“Good. I’m glad someone can.” Han says, and Minho almost hears a hint of sadness laced with it. He can practically feel the way the bittersweet tone drips off of Han’s lips, but they both know it isn’t truly a bad thing.   
“Can I kiss you?” Minho blurts, needing to show Han that he cares even if he can’t say it to him just yet. Han is the first to move, standing on his knees in front of him.   
“Only if you hold my hips.” Han says. It almost sounds like a challenge, definitely intended as a personal one rather than aimed at Minho. He knows that Minho will, it is simply a matter of whether or not he can withstand it. Minho nods, taking hold of him tightly and easing him to rest on his lap before they push themselves together at the same time. Minho kneads the skin under his fingertips, knowing that Han will pull away if he needs to. They kiss almost lazily, as if this is all they need and all they want. In a way, it is.   
As the kiss deepens, with Han taking the lead in order to test his limits, Minho gives his hips a rough squeeze. Han groans, muffled by the way their mouths are connected and Minho worries he may have pushed too far when Han pauses. They wait, Minho fully expecting to usher him to the bathroom or to let him go as soon as he hears the word. When that moment doesn’t come, Han is pushing against him much more forcefully. His hands grip the arm of the couch that Minho is propped against, forcing Minho to lean back and simply take whatever is given to him, not that he’s complaining. For a moment, a wave of terror washes over Minho. It feels too good to be true. He worries this may all be a dream. So, he grabs at Han’s hips roughly, wanting to make it a good dream should it actually be one. Han responds to it immediately, his hips jerking forward and his breathing turning into a heavy pant against Minho’s lips.   
“Too hot,” Han mumbles, leaning back to quickly strip off his shirt before attacking Minho’s lips again. Minho feels similarly, but he refuses to make Han stop for anything. With Han only in his boxers above him, Minho can’t stand the blanket between them. Minho loops his hands under Han’s thighs, lifting him enough to kick the blanket away. The pressure on his lap is enough to send a wave of heat through him, his nails digging into the soft padding of Han’s hips and making the boy above him keen softly.   
“Jisung,” Minho says through the kisses, Han just humming before continuing. Minho nearly lets his comment slip his mind, too caught up in keeping pace with the hungry kisses. “Han Jisung,” He tries again, Han pulling back and panting. His hair is falling into his eyes just enough to make Minho nearly groan. A flustered Han Jisung is surely a sight to see. “Han,” Minho says with a shaky voice. “I, uh,” Minho tries to make his mind work, tries to force the words to come out. It will be the first time he’s ever said them. “I-I’m asking.” Minho says, the two of them staring at each other for a moment. He will understand if Han isn’t ready. He will gladly make out for hours without doing anything more. He will -  
“Yeah, okay,” Han rushes, helping Minho remove his shirt before tossing it onto the ground alongside his own. “Yes, fuck,” Han rambles, nudging Minho’s head to the side with his own. “I’ll try my best.” He says against his skin, making quick work of leaving wet kisses down the side of his neck. Minho has to bite his lip, not wanting to wake any of the others with an unexpected groan. Han rocks his hips forward again, this time with no blanket between them and Minho’s eyes nearly roll back. His eyes flutter shut, his chest rising and falling to try and catch up with his racing heart.   
“Please,” Minho says, raising one of his hands to hold Han’s wrist beside his head. “We don’t have to do anything more, just please,” Minho babbles, Han taking the hint and moving his hand to Minho’s hip instead. Under any other circumstance, Minho would consider it teasing. In their situation, though, he suspects Han may be hyping himself up to test how much progress he has made. It takes a few more kisses and one particularly needy sounding groan for Han to rest his hand over the bulge that has formed in Minho’s boxers. The pressure of it combined with the simple knowledge that Han is touching him makes Minho tilt his head back. In his clouded mind, it takes Minho a moment to realize that Han hasn’t moved his hand. He hasn’t moved at all.   
Minho looks up at him, seeing a blank expression and unfocussed eyes.   
“Han?” Minho asks, quickly moving Han’s hand off of him and onto the couch beside them. When Han has no reaction to being moved, Minho begins to truly worry. He pushes Han to sit up quickly, grabbing the first shirt he can feel and dressing him. Once Han is covered, he dresses himself, moving Han off of his lap and wrapping him in the discarded blanket. “Han, can you look at me?” He asks. Han stares at the same spot, only the occasional slow blink telling Minho that he isn’t talking to a completely empty shell. Minho grabs his water bottle from beside the couch, opening it and tilting Han’s head back to make him drink. It’s terrifying, watching Han’s body respond to the situation enough to swallow the water but not to blink the soul back into his eyes. Minho caps the bottle again as his hands begin to shake. “Han Jisung,” He tries, remembering that Han had told him how much he loves to hear him say it. When that fails, Minho supposes he will have to try something they couldn’t have possibly used against him. A different name. “Sungie.” Minho coos, Han blinking the tiniest bit more regularly at the different name. Minho keeps saying it, keeps encouraging Han’s dissociation to fade and to draw him back into the moment. He feels terrible for causing him to shut down.   
Han finally blinks back, looking around and noticing the change in where he is and that he is redressed. He looks at Minho with wide eyes.   
“Hey, no, it’s okay, nothing happened,” Minho says, holding out the water bottle for him to take on his own this time. “You spaced out, I moved you and nothing happened past that. You’re okay.” Han is looking at him with fear, and it hurts Minho to not know if he is afraid of what just happened or of him as a whole. “Do you need me to get someone else?” He asks, backing away from Han and watching the way Han tries to refamiliarize himself with his surroundings. Han slowly shakes his head, sipping the water and ignoring the few drops that drip down his chin. “Do you want to go back to your room?” Han nods slowly, recapping the bottle while not looking at Minho. So, Minho texts Hyunjin. To his surprise, Hyunjin comes out of the room rather quickly, shuffling out to the living room and making his way over to Han.   
“Han,” He says in a groggy voice. Han looks at him easily, and it hurts so terribly. “Do you want to come to bed?” He asks, Han nodding. “What happened?” Hyunjin asks Minho, Minho just telling him that he’ll tell him when Han isn’t at risk of slipping again so easily. Hyunjin nods, giving him a sympathetic look before helping Han up and back to their room. Hyunjin glances back at Minho, who is already burying himself into the blankets in an attempt to hide away from the world. He knew it had been too soon, but he had been too selfish. He knew he shouldn’t have pushed. He shouldn’t have asked to kiss him in the first place, he should have known he would have wanted more. When the door to their room clicks shut, Minho begins to cry. He tries to remind himself of Felix’s words, tries to remind himself that this is not his fault and that Han could have told him no. He tries to assure himself that Han simply can’t be back to his normal self so quickly. He tries. He tries so hard, but ends up exhausting himself to the point of sleeping, instead. Even in his dreams, Han refuses him. Minho hopes for a better morning.


	12. Day 4

The morning of the fourth day is much too quiet for Minho’s liking. There is no early breakfast, no real interactions at all until near afternoon. When Han finally emerges from his room, only the two of them awake, Minho wants to say something. Anything to make up for what had happened; but he isn’t sure of what to say. Every curtain is still shut, closing out most light that tries to make its way into the room. Han doesn’t turn on the lights over Minho’s head, and Minho doesn’t say anything. Han hesitates to walk past the doorway entering the living room, and watching him seem so timid makes Minho want to scream. Minho is just laying on the couch, playing a random show he can’t understand on the lowest volume on the television. He is only laid out, with one arm behind his head and the blanket still covering most of his body despite the heat outside trying to warm him. He isn’t standing, he isn’t close to Han, and yet Han seems to be looking at him as if he were a threat. Minho breaks the eye contact that had been briefly shared, Han walking quickly to the fridge without saying a word. Minho can hear the sounds of cereal being poured over the sound of the television - or maybe it is just him focussing on whatever Han is doing out of view. He hears him put everything back, and expects to either hear his bowl clink onto the table or for Han to nag at him to move his feet. Neither of those things happen, instead he hears silence. Minho is sure that Han is either spacing out from grogginess or he is staring at the back of Minho’s head to see if he moves at all. Minho hates the thought of being watched like a cornered animal - despite honestly feeling like one right now.   
He definitely feels pinned against a wall, definitely feels like one wrong move and it will all be over. Han moves silently past him, holding his bowl close to his chest and taking one too many glances back at Minho for him to not worry that Han assumes he may pop up behind him. Minho needs to hit something. Rather, Minho needs to leave the house and then hit something, so that he doesn’t give Han another reason to fear him.   
So, he does. He dresses himself for the moderate temperature, makes sure his phone is charged, and doesn’t care about the ride of shame he will face when he needs to return without a key and without any proper way of knowing where he is. None of that matters. So, he leaves. He wills Han to have a good morning, to warm up to the people around him after recouping from his bad night. He wills the boys to all emerge from their rooms at once and to hug him as tight as Minho wishes he could, right now. He wills them all not to hate him for setting Han’s progress back due to one stupid decision. Minho thinks as he walks down unfamiliar streets that maybe if he had told Han to stop the first time he seemed hesitant, it would have been okay. If he had offered to let him sleep beside him rather than beg him to do anything they were unsure of that Han may not have been so paranoid and afraid this morning. Minho shoves his hands into his pockets, feeling his wallet for any indication of how much converted currency he is carrying before looking up at a hanging sign that has a photo of a coffee cup on it. He might as well try, right?   
Minho makes his way in, nowhere near as anxious as he would normally be when ordering anything in a language he never speaks. He pulls his hood off of his head, flattening his growing hair in a mild attempt to tame the mess his sleep had made. When he makes it to the counter, he tries to form any words that may help him - but his mind repeats the same order in Korean and nothing else. From a back room, Minho assumes, a cute boy that seems to be no older than eighteen approaches the counter. When Minho greets him with a heavily accented and clearly overthought hello, the boy gives him a small smile. Minho is glad there is no one else in line at this point, shakily trying to pull up the translation app Felix had suggested should he need it. When the boy notices, he makes a small sound of exclamation before gently resting his elbows on the counter - a face of patience easing Minho just enough to stop making typos from shaking so badly. If Minho had to guess, he would assume the boy is at least half Korean, but that doesn’t mean he will know the language. So, Minho finishes his order in the app and lets the robotic voice attempt to repeat it. Minho has no idea if the translation is correct, but it seemingly is close enough for the boy to smile and nod - asking him in an accented, shaking attempt at Korean about the amount of cream and sugar in each coffee he would like. Minho smiles, genuinely and near incredulously at the boy’s effort. Minho holds up fingers for each empty cup placed before him - from the boy asking if the sizes were okay - and proceeding to point to the grinning boy for him to tell him how to say it in English. Minho repeats four, two, three and zero back to him with the best effort he can muster, but the boy beams at him regardless of how wonky it ends up sounding in comparison. Minho blames the Australian accent for stacking the odds against him. After the orders are made and before they are in the process of being put together, Minho says basic sentences in Korean to the boy with the apron. For a moment, Minho remembers how Han had been wearing an apron of the same color the first time they had met - but that is pushed aside when the boy answers slowly after a moment of processing what Minho had asked him.   
They talk for maybe twenty minutes, Minho with nothing to do and the boy with no other customers to help. They laugh about each other's pronunciations and how different words sound. Minho tries to ask him for a pen, having to mime the action of writing on his hand before the boy can understand. Minho shows him how to write his name and tediously copies the boy’s vague translation from Hangul to English letters.   
Once the drinks are made and Minho is handed a carrying tray as well as his own drink separately, he notices a bit of writing on the receipt. He recognizes it immediately as a phone number and honestly - Minho is flattered. Regardless of platonic or romantic interest the boy may have - he doesn’t know about everything that has happened. He doesn’t know why Minho is here, doesn’t know about the pain he is actively removing himself from for the time being and in a way, Minho is glad. He has made himself enjoyable enough - despite what he is going through - to have someone want to exchange numbers. Minho sets his drink down on the counter before picking up the same marker he had used and gesturing for a paper. Once his own number and the English version of his name (the best version his memory could conjure) is in the hands of the smiling boy with a dimple on one cheek and a head of wavy hair, Minho exits the shop with a small wave of his drink and the chiming of the door.   
Minho knows that if Han is awake, Hyunjin is awake. He knows Felix is the only person who can pick him up in a car, but Hyunjin is the one Minho would rather be found by. He wants a chance to talk to him. He finds a bench to sit on, luckily in the shade to avoid any ice melting in the drinks he bought for the others. His he doesn’t care so much about, but he can’t try to make amends with watered down drinks. Not in good conscience. Begrudgingly, he messages Felix. He sends a photo of the nearest street sign and requests Hyunjin to come. Within a few minutes, Felix informs him that he is on the way.   
In the car, Felix and Hyunjin happily accept their designated drinks and thank him. Hyunjin makes a nice comment about how Minho still remembers his order, and Minho’s outlook for where he stands with him is uplifted a bit by the happiness at such a small action. Felix agrees when they all pull into the parking lot of Felix’s building to leave the two of them to talk, promising to bring the drinks in and make sure they stay cold until Minho can hand them out himself. Hyunjin is tasked with locking the car and bringing in the keys, Minho is left to talk with him in the back seat of the still-running vehicle.   
“You want to talk about it?” Hyunjin asks, his voice tuned to the same soft and sweet pitch Minho has missed hearing whenever he has been upset recently. Minho nods, unsure of where to start or what to say. Hyunjin turns his full attention to him, raising his straw to his lips and sipping while looking at him expectantly.   
“Long, awkward description short,” Minho starts, not particularly wanting to give Hyunjin a play by play of his and Han’s actions last night. “Everything was fine until he, um,” Minho flushes, making a downward pressing motion with his hand a few inches above his crotch. Hyunjin flushes too, nodding solemnly in immediate understanding.   
“No warning signs?” Hyunjin asks, setting his drink down and leaning into the conversation. Minho wants to say no, but he can’t.   
“One, he kind of stopped as if he expected something to happen,” Minho admits, sighing and rubbing his face. “But he continued immediately after, and it had been fine until that one point where I called for you.” Minho feels tears pricking at the corners of his eyes, the familiar tightness of his throat threatening to make him choke up on the spot. “God, Hyunjin, he looked so afraid of me.” His voice breaks, his hands rake through his hair only to tug at the roots. He is trying so hard to not cry, to stop the shaking that is caused by holding in a sob. “This morning even more so.” Minho adds, letting his head fall and his arms cross over the back of his neck. His eyes are squeezed shut, but he can feel Hyunjin’s long fingers wrapping over his interlocked hands.   
“Neither of you knew,” Hyunjin starts gently. “I know that he’s wanted to try and be more intimate with you. In a lot of ways, he has,” Hyunjin says, bringing Minho’s hands back over his head to rest in his lap. His other hand comes up to fully enclose Minho’s, Minho sniffling and looking up at him with red eyes and a slightly puffy face. “He loves you. What you saw last night was the reaction conditioned into him, that wasn’t Han.” Hyunjin explains softly, Minho nodding because logically, he knows that. “That fear, that hesitation, that is something he is trying to undo. He wants it so bad so that he can be with you, Minho.” Hyunjin squeezes Minho’s hands for emphasis, Minho raising both pairs of limbs to rest under his tucked chin, hugging Hyunjin’s hands to his throat and letting tears finally fall as his eyes slowly shut. Hyunjin hates to see him like this. It feels as though the entirety of their friendship, Minho has been too soft for such an abrasive world. He is too sensitive for the harsh reality of how things may turn out in circumstances like this, too weak to hide the pain he feels and needing a shoulder or two to lean on for support. Hyunjin doesn’t mind, honestly, but he would love to see the fleeting version of Minho where he had been happy - when they would drink for fun or go on trips for the sake of enjoyment rather than the need to escape.   
“It’s so hard watching him willingly go to you, or to Felix, or to anyone that isn’t me,” Minho says, Hyunjin removing one of his hands to pat down the length of Minho’s hair. It’s a comfort that quickly became exclusive to Hyunjin and Changbin. A comfort that Minho had needed many times in the past, and as nice as it is, he wished upon Han’s return that he would never need to feel it again. Not in the same context, at least. “Fuck, Jinnie, I feel like I forced him,” Minho cries, his eyes locked onto the now watering ones of his friend who is leaning closer to him by the moment. Hyunjin immediately protests.   
“No, no, Minho,” Hyunjin shakes his head. “If he chose to continue, that was his choice. He may not have known that that would happen at all, much less how to handle or avoid it.” Hyunjin soothes, rubbing the back of Minho’s head in small circles with his thumb, the rest of his hand gently holding his neck as if his head may detach. “For as long as I’ve known you, you’ve been so tragically in love with him that it simply wouldn’t even be a thought in my mind that you had forced him into anything,” Hyunjin says with a near scoff, Minho letting a small smile pass through the dark clouds around him at the description Hyunjin gave. “Minho you can try and convince me of it if you’d like, but that isn’t you,” Hyunjin says slower, knocking his forehead to the side of Minho’s head. “And that wasn’t Han.” Hyunjin whispers directly into his ear, hoping the small distance will force the reality of his words to linger in Minho’s mind longer in some way. Minho turns to look at him, their faces close and their expressions saying that they have met neutral ground. Minho’s lips tighten into a straight line, he nods a few times and lets the corners of his mouth turn up just enough to ease Hyunjin’s mind. Hyunjin smiles weakly at him, knowing that Minho’s choice to believe him can’t be swayed or forced outside of this car. Minho weakly raises his hand from Hyunjin’s, poking one of his dimples in a form of affection he hasn't been able to give in a long time.  
They exit the car and Hyunjin allows Minho to lock the car twice before walking to the elevators in a heavy, but comfortable silence. They share knowing glances as they meet the door to the apartment, Hyunjin opening the door for Minho before ushering him in with his free hand. Minho takes a deep breath, finding the two drinks in the fridge and easily handing one to Changbin - leaving the other in front of Han’s door before knocking and walking away. 

Minho sits on the small balcony to Felix’s apartment, sitting alone to watch the setting sun and get away from the sympathetic looks passed his way by everyone in the house. He appreciates their understanding; he appreciates the way they are all willing to hear him out and let him cry. Despite the support, Minho feels as if he has ruined the whole trip. He’s definitely ruined it for Han, and him coming has basically turned it into a week-long pity party where Minho has cried every night in one way or another. He hates it. He hates how much of a burden he’s become on the group of friends that had been better when Minho was staying quiet and off to the side. He hates how the hope he has for things getting better has been slipping away from him, and he hates how it’s entirely his own fault.   
Minho lights a cigarette that he pulls from behind his ear. He’s been great at hiding his already once-quit habit, only sneaking the few from his lone remaining pack into his suitcase because he had assumed this week would be hard for him. He expected it to be difficult in a different way, but he supposes he’s glad to have brought them now that things have gone worse than he could have ever anticipated. Only two people know of this, Hyunjin and Changbin had coerced him to quit the first time. He had picked it up when he had felt too numb - often opening the window in the attic and smoking up there whenever he needed to feel something more than the way missing Han had left him. He didn’t want to stain the paint downstairs, didn’t want to look at the swing hanging in the yard, so he forced himself into the attic after the remnants of Han had been removed.   
He takes one long drag, feeling his heart begin to race and fill out the space that had grown accustomed to feeling empty. The sky around him has begun to fade into pinks and yellows, a light breeze shaking the trees audibly and cooling Minho’s ever-sensitive skin. When he had knocked on Han’s door earlier, he had watched from a safe distance as the boy had opened it with a blanket wrapped around himself, smiling at the drink and looking directly at Minho - because anyone else would have just gone into the room to give it to him. Han had given him a small bow of thanks, and for a moment Minho thought he might actually say the words to him. That he might have actually given him a bit of normalcy back, even if it was too quiet for him to hear from the kitchen. Han had ducked back into the room, instead, and that’s when the looks of pity had started.   
Minho hears the slider door beside him open, expecting a soft sigh from Hyunjin and gentle reprimanding about the reignited habit between his fingers. Minho is leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees, waiting to hear the chair beside him creak with the weight on another person.   
“Oh,” He hears, soft and almost disappointed. He looks, Han standing stiffly in the doorway with his eyes trailing the thin line of smoke. Minho quickly drags the cigarette on the ground, breathing out the remaining smoke from between his lips and moving his chair away from the empty one. Han shuts the door, quietly sitting himself in the chair and sighing. He looks at the sky, anywhere other than Minho. Minho can’t help but stare at him, hoping to meet his eyes. It hurts him to watch Han avoid that very interaction.   
“How are you?” Minho asks softly, finally looking away from the avoidant eyes.   
“I’ve been better,” Han chuckles, his voice a bit deeper than Minho is used to hearing. “I wanted to talk to you.” Han says. It should relieve Minho, it should make him happy that Han is out here with him and choosing to be beside him again. Instead, Minho hears buzzing in his ears. It’s familiar to angry wings, Minho’s heart beginning to react as if he were being swarmed by all of his worst fears. Of losing Han for real this time, of being told Han can’t be with him and of course, wasps. His throat begins to itch at the memory, Minho sliding a hand up his sleeve to scratch at phantom hives and failing at being discreet about it. Minho sees Han give him an almost-too-sad smile, and the buzzing begins to make his head spin. Why does he feel dizzy? Has his heart beat always been this prevalent?   
Minho can’t feel it, too focused on how he is manually breathing to notice the way his hands have begun to shake. Breathe in, breathe out. Han is talking to him, saying something while leaning to try and look at his face. He can’t hear it. Breathe in, breathe out. Why is my heartbeat so loud? Minho tries his best not to panic over his unrest, looking around him just in case there really are any wasps circling his head. Han is in front of him now. When did that happen? His mouth is moving, his voice heavily muffled and nearly distorted by the amount of static in Minho's mind. Minho looks down, when did Han touch him? Why can’t he feel it?   
“Minho, look at me.” Han says, just loud enough to faintly break through the haze. Minho does, blinking a few times to see him clearly. Is he crying? “You’re okay,” Han tries, staring into the slowly unfocusing eyes of Minho. Han can see the moment he’s checked out, opening the door just enough to call for anyone who can hear him. Han wonders if this is what Minho had gone through with him. Is this what he looked like? Felix and Changbin come outside, Hyunjin able to tell from Han’s tone of panic that he needs to be ready to help once they’re inside, rather than crowding the balcony. Minho has stopped shaking, his blinking long and far between one another. His breathing is shallow, and Han can only describe it as going on autopilot. Felix ushers Han inside, Changbin easily lifting Minho and holding the taller man much like a child, pressed to his chest to get him inside and laid on the couch. Hyunjin is ready with water and small snacks, already aware of what had helped Han snap out of this same scenario the night before.   
“He’s been too stressed,” Hyunjin says, gently stroking his dampened hand over Minho’s forehead. Minho gives a delayed flinch at the cold temperature. “Han, you should stay.” For once, Hyunjin’s voice is strong. It is not intended as a suggestion. Han needs to stay, no matter how long it takes for Minho to come around. They hope it won’t be long. 

Minho blinks a few times before looking around, the room dark and the couch comfortable beneath him. When did he come inside? Minho tries to move, tries to sit up and hold his head to stop the dull throbbing.   
“Hey, there you are,” Han whispers, rubbing Minho’s back as he does so. Minho had not been laying on the couch at all; he had been laying on Han. Minho blushes a furious red, opening his mouth to apologize but stopping in his tracks at the soft smile and even softer eyes Han gives him. Minho is okay now. “It hasn’t been long, I had them turn off the light. Dinner should be coming soon.” Han says. Minho is thankful to know he hadn’t crushed Han for too long. “I ordered you your favorite.” Han says gently, running a hand through Minho’s hair. “Whenever I go through that, I don’t want to eat so I hoped it would entice you.” Minho is propped to hover over Han, looking at his sweet smile and enjoying his gentle touches. He can process his words this time, he is aware of every sensation he’s being given. “I know talking is hard, so just listen, yeah?” Han asks, Minho just nodding and lowering himself back down to Han’s chest. He can hear Han’s heartbeat, so glad to be able to be close like this.   
Han leaves a small kiss on the top of Minho’s head, resting his chin over it as if to keep the small affection in place.   
“I’ve been thinking about Honey lately,” Han says, sounding rather at peace compared to his usual teary voice. “About the things she told me about you.” Minho smiles, remembering the sweet words Han had written to him. “When I was coming back into myself last night, it really helped me calm down. Remembering, you know,” Han gives a small chuckle, gently jostling Minho and allowing his cheek to vibrate. “She used to apologize for taking me away from you, that was hard to hear. She met you properly once, but she would ask about you a lot. Ask me to tell her funny stories of us whenever my parents were gone.” Han smiles, making aimless patterns on Minho’s back. “She begged them to leave us in peace. She even yelled at them,” Minho blinks at that, unable to picture the sweet older woman ever raising her voice. Han seems to know him well enough. “I know, hard to imagine, isn’t it?” Minho smiles, the side of his face vibrating with another chuckle from Han. “She was so angry at them, she went so far as to say that you and I loved each other more than my parents ever had. That hurt too, but I guess in a way that was true. They got divorced, so,” Han lets his voice trail off. Minho looks up at him, Han trying his best to meet his eye and give him a reassuring, teary-eyed smile.   
“She was great, Jisung.” Minho says, his voice feeling unfamiliar and weak. Han nods.  
“You’re great too,” He says, pressing a kiss to Minho’s forehead. “She saw that. I see it. We all do.” Han continues his sweeping motions over Minho’s back, Minho’s eyes fluttering at the sweet feeling it brings. “I was thinking about my therapist, too,” Han says, Minho nodding against his chest. “She uh, she told me that in the case of situations like last night, it is better to just try and go for it,” Han explains. A lot of things clink in Minho’s mind with that information. “She told me that fear is the easiest emotion to manipulate and that’s why they-” Minho interrupts him by pushing himself up to look at Han again. Minho’s expression reads as confused, Han able to see the bit of sadness tied to it.   
“They made you afraid of me?” Minho asks, his voice shaking and his heart beginning to pick up speed again.   
“Minho, no, listen to me,” Han says, trying to get him to lay back down. Minho wants to see him say it. “The fear is a conditioned thing, set to a specific stimulus,” Han says.  
“Don’t explain the technicalities to me. I know them. Are you afraid of me?” Minho doesn’t mean to sound so angry, doesn’t mean to scowl at Han. “Without anything happening, nothing that should set anything off. Are you afraid of me?” Han’s lip trembles at that, and Minho immediately wants to cave in on himself. He knew it. Minho moves off of Han, Han grabbing him by the arm and sitting himself up quickly.   
“Minho, I swear I’m not afraid of you,” Han cries, “Please just listen to me,” Han begs, pulling on Minho’s arm to force him into sitting beside him. “Please.” Minho sighs, nodding hesitantly. Han moves to make Minho face him, looking at him with intense eyes and exhaling while placing his hands on Minho’s shoulder. Minho tries to read his expression, tries to read the way his eyebrows knit together and relax immediately after. Han brings Minho closer, his hands holding the sides of Minho’s face ever so gently. “I am not afraid of you. I know you’d never hurt me,” Han says quietly. “Logically, I do know that. You never do anything wrong, okay? You got Hyunjin, and I’m sure that hurt you, but you did what was best for me.” Minho nods sadly.   
“It’s really hard,” Minho sniffles. Han knocks their foreheads together, each of them closing their eyes and letting themselves feel every emotion running through them. All the pain, the guilt, everything they try to keep at bay.   
“Han Jisung,” Minho whispers, “I miss you.” He says, knowing that Han will understand what he meant. He misses them, he misses the normal interactions, he misses Han riding to his house and the satisfaction of waking up beside him. Han leaves a tiny, gentle kiss on Minho’s pouting lips.   
“I might regret this,” Minho hears Han mumble. Han leaves another linger kiss, Minho able to properly respond this time. “Minho,” Han says firmly, Minho opening his eyes and blushing at the closeness. Han is looking at him, practically through him. Han breathes deeply, Minho bringing his hands up to hold Han’s, which are still holding his face. “I love you. I love you so fucking much,” Han says, a wet laugh leaving him as he clearly begins to feel uncomfortable. Minho beams at him, moving quickly to crush Han against him in a hug.  
“I’m sorry,” Han says quickly, still grinning despite the way he is clutching his stomach. Han has to excuse himself, and Minho doesn’t mind. Minho couldn’t care less about anything other than the three words spoken to him. Han loves him. Han told him he loved him. Han loves him, and Minho loves him too. After more than a year, for the first time, despite knowing that he will react poorly, Han told him. On top of that, his favorite meal should be here any minute now, thanks to the boy he loves. Minho can’t stop smiling.


	13. Day 5

Minho’s morning is eventful for him. Breakfast brings shy glances from Han, looking away every time their eyes meet and not caring if anyone else saw. It brought Minho a newfound sense of security and hope; when Han had willingly brushed behind him to reach for something in a cupboard and ended up holding Minho’s waist for leverage. There may have been sheepish grins exchanged, but no one other than them saw. No one needed to in order to know that tension had been lifted. Well, for everyone other than Changbin. Minho has noticed him all day. Even now, sitting across from Minho and looking right at him as he speaks to the others that his mind is somewhere else. Minho knows Changbin. He likes to think he does, anyway; he likes to think that the slight contortion on the boy’s face is one of nerves. But what does he have to be nervous about? Minho ends his explanation about why eating too many apple seeds could cause death, suddenly worried that maybe Changbin just doesn’t want to look at him from his seat. With a horrified looking Hyunjin beside him -proclaiming that he’s surely swallowed a few apple seeds in his life- Changbin’s cold faced demeanor sticks out in an unfortunate contrast. Minho shifts in his seat, excusing himself and choosing to let Changbin breathe.  
Minho continued to think about it all during the hours that followed, the way Changbin seemed so distant despite their prior interaction where things had seemed settled. He thought about Changbin’s tense shoulders while washing the breakfast plates. He remembered the occasional jaw clench that Changbin is infamous for - his one give away for ‘hey, I’m not doing so well right now.’ Minho’s most often seen it just before he cries. The flexing jaw muscle, the fast blinks and far off stare are definitely something Minho can’t get his mind off of.   
Around lunch, Han Jisung decided it best to use his free time to annoy Minho. And for Minho to -for once- want space from him, Han couldn’t have been happier to get out of his face. Minho had gladly taken it at first, the repeating of his name and the gentle touches to his shoulders were certainly more than welcome. When Han had ended up trying to block Minho’s game to make him lose, Minho finally had it.   
He was so close to the end of the battle, so close to winning, that Han had finally seen it. Seen him, after so long. The real Minho. The Minho he knows and has missed; the annoyed, snarky, bantering Minho. The Minho who had picked on him for his absolutely atrocious snort laugh that comes out every once in a while. He saw the way Minho got mad, but not really. How his eyes squinted, head tilted and mouth fell open just enough to complement the knitted eyebrows. He heard the firm but whining tone he had first fallen in love with, telling him to ‘sit and wait for his turn or leave entirely.’ When Han told him he was sitting out of laziness rather than support for Minho’s match, he heard the lovely scoff that had mocked his terrible jokes before Han wasn’t around to make them anymore. So yes, he had sat down directly beside Minho, making sure to rest a hand on his thigh just for the occasional distraction.   
When Felix is a bit quiet around Minho, Minho worries something may have happened. Felix wasn’t upset, per say; his silence seemed almost smug. Minho has caught his tongue rolling along the inside of his cheek a few times, a passing thought causing him to chuckle and shake his head. Changbin seemed more distraught by the hour. He hadn’t said more than a good morning to Minho all day, and by the time they all returned from a small scenic city walk, Changbin seemed so exhausted and overall drained that Minho nearly pulled him aside. He would have, but Hyunjin had gotten to him first. He saw the way Changbin had brushed it off, so Minho had decided to let it be.   
Sitting on the couch now, with his hands twitching and eyes roaming over Han, Minho is far more than embarrassed. He is trying his best to squash any thoughts that have been simmering in his mind, willing his mind and heart to slow. Being on the couch, looking at Han simply existing and knowing that he had been touched by Han - no matter how briefly - and letting his thoughts run wild makes Minho almost feel guilty. He is sitting in a room full of his friends and the one boy who drives him wild - he really tries his best to cool the burning in his stomach. He tries not to let his eyes linger over the boy’s hands or the way his head is craned over the back of the couch. He tries to keep his twitching hands from reaching out to hold his hips and squeeze.   
Remembering that Han may not receive it well quickly becomes his only solace. He doesn’t want to feel selfish and admit that he considered asking Han to visit him after lights go out. He tries, but for the last ten minutes little to nothing has changed. He still has a pillow casually hugged to him and a hoodie over his lean figure while he silently wills himself to calm down. Han being Han, he easily notices.  
He gives Minho a small look of confusion before his eyebrows lift. Minho just glares at him, silently reprimanding Han for looking so devious and ill-intended at his realization. Minho mouths an anxious ‘don’t say anything’ to Han, who smirks at him with a nod. Minho is left to suffer in peace again, listening to the conversations and occasional yells from the boys and trying to convince himself that Han isn’t teasing him. He is imagining it, Han isn’t actually sitting with his legs a bit wider than before. He isn’t actually playing with his bottom lip and pushing his hair back with small frustrated sighs. He can’t be, right?   
As it nears dinner time, Minho isn’t so sure his mind was running through fuzzy territory. Han Jisung is definitely being flirty. Minho doesn’t know how to handle it. He can’t help but pretend not to notice the small things, or to look away and clear his throat whenever Han reaches under his shirt just to hold his stomach. He can’t keep his stare, or the softly spoken words in his ear from making his heart race. Minho wasn’t expecting this. Not yet, and definitely not so forward. Han used to shy away and act like it didn’t happen, so why? Minho supposes that they both know what they want most - to be back to normal, so maybe that’s what Han is trying to do. To act like they have the option to go farther, that things wouldn’t go wrong and that there’s never been hesitation. Han is a great actor.   
So great, that Minho is sure he must have convinced himself of the act he’s put on. Minho is sitting on the couch as usual, clearing his dinner plate while they all face a movie and eat in silence. Minho can feel his stare, carving a heart into the side of his head and setting his mind on fire. He’s sure Han wants to eat him alive.   
Minho is nervous once good nights are said and shuffling footsteps replace the noise of the television, leaving only himself and his Han Jisung to sit in the quiet space.   
“You should sleep,” Minho softly suggests, adjusting the blanket on his legs and blinking when Han slides himself under the blanket as well. “What are you doing?” Minho asks, almost not wanting to know the answer. Han smiles at him, laying on the couch beside him and wrapping an arm around his waist. “Jisung, you can’t sleep here.” Minho says, almost sounding like a question. “Everyone will see you in the morning.” He explains, nevertheless running a hand affectionately through the hair atop Han’s head.   
“They know already, Hyung. It’s not a secret.” Han chuckles, Minho breathing out how stupid feels - how he almost felt like he’s needed to hide every feeling away for the sake of the trip. He supposes he’s done a bad job of hiding.   
“I just want to lay with you forever,” Minho sighs, rolling onto his side and tucking Han’s head under his chin. “I feel like I’ve got a lifetime to make up for.” He admits, planting a small kiss to Han’s head.   
“Well, then you can spend the rest of our lives making up for it.” Han says easily. Almost too easily. Is Minho dreaming? He has to pull away and search Han’s face, hoping that he hadn’t imagined the words.   
“What?” He asks, incredulous and mind already going blank.  
“You heard me, right? Please don’t make me say it again.” Han chuckles sheepishly, looking between Minho’s eyes as best he can at such a close distance.   
“Yeah, I, uh,” Minho smiles softly and nods quickly. “I heard you.” Minho lowers his voice to a whisper. “I hear you. Loud and clear.”   
Han grins at him, remembering other moments in his life when he’s felt like this. At Minho’s house, after agreeing to restart the day after a hard night had occurred. Seeing Minho’s progress after going to therapy and applying it all into this trip, and now a real promise to work these things out together. Han could cry. He thinks Minho is crying. He gently wipes his face just in case, feeling a small damp line passing under his fingers.   
“Hey, please tell me those are good tears,” Han says gently, continuing to wipe his face. Minho shuts his eyes and leans into the touch. “I’m sorry if it was a lot,” Han says, getting cut off.  
“I think they are. I’m glad you want that. I want that.” Minho nods. “But as happy as I am right now, I know I can’t sleep with such a pretty boy staring back at me all night.” Minho chuckles, Han scoffing and rolling over Minho’s body to ‘get off’ the couch. In reality he decides to lay there, Minho laughing under his weight and hanging on to his sprawled arms so he doesn’t fall. He gives Han a good push into standing beside the couch, standing with him to balance him out. They stand toe to toe, one step back and Minho could fall onto the couch. Han looks at him for a moment; reaching out to push him back just as a door suddenly opens from the hallway. Changbin comes tumbling out, tripping over himself and shutting the door behind him, muffling the sound of an annoyed sounding Felix.   
Han gives Minho a small smile, patting Minho’s shoulders rather than pushing and making his way back to his room - only to be stopped by Changbin.   
“Switch rooms with me,” Minho hears from the living room. “He’s your best friend, you can switch right?”   
“I don’t want to. I’m going to bed already.” Han says, gesturing to the door Changbin ran from. “Plus, he's a bed hog.”   
“Believe me, Han, I know,” Changbin grumbles. “Minho?” He says once he notices him standing, Han sneaking back into his room as Changbin moves toward Minho in a near hurry. “Hyung, Hyung, please,” Minho furrows his eyebrows, Changbin never calls him that. Changbin runs into Minho, pushing him down into the couch and falling clumsily onto the poor, confused boy with a grunt of discomfort. His white shirt hangs off of him nicely, the fabric soft and his pajama pants softer. Changbin adjusts to properly sit on him, causing Minho to blush furiously and wonder where exactly he should put his hands. “Minho please,” Changbin’s hands hold the back of the couch, caging him in. “Switch to Felix’s room for the rest of the trip. Please.” Changbin whines, Minho looking up at him dumbly.   
“Why do you want to get out so badly?” Minho asks, suddenly worried that this is most Changbin has said to him all day.   
“Minho, you know me,” Changbin says as if it’s a complete answer; entirely obvious. “I get nervous around attractive people,” Changbin whines, Minho chuckling.   
“Why aren’t you nervous around me, then?” Minho asks. Changbin slaps his chest lightly.   
“You’re not undressing more and more each night as some sort of temptation game!” Changbin defends, hiding himself by curling in on Minho, resting his forehead on his shoulder.   
“Is it working, Bin?” Minho asks, patting the boys back. He feels a nod against his shoulder. “Then why hold off? If you both want something to happen, you have tonight and tomorrow to make it work out.” Minho chuckles, Changbin whining quietly at the thought of Minho knowing these things. “I’ll let you stay out here until you think he’s gone to sleep if you need to dwell on it, but I’m not changing rooms.” Minho says, finally deciding to wrap his arms around Changbin’s waist, hugging himself against his chest and reveling in the familiarity he’s missed so much. He can’t remember the last time Changbin had sat in his lap - probably after a night of drinking but Minho can’t seem to be sure about it. It’s usually been the other way around, Minho in their laps and often crying. Luckily for both of them, Changbin doesn’t seem to be crying whatsoever.   
“I miss you,” Changbin says suddenly. Minho nods against him. “I’m sorry for all we did and all we didn’t do.” Changbin continues, Minho humming and shrugging.   
“I’ve forgiven you. Seeing how he reacts to things put it all in perspective for me to understand why you kept him away from me.” Minho says, sighing. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore. It’s dealt with.”  
Changbin nods with a smile and a crushing hug, making Minho grunt at the force and making Changbin laugh in response to the foreign sound.   
“Can I stay up here awhile? Jinnie never lets me do this anymore.”   
“I think that’s just you asking to be held.”  
“So I’m a baby, sue me.” Changbin grumbles, rolling off and onto the couch beside him. Changbin rests his head on Minho’s shoulder with a sigh, Minho chuckling slightly beneath him. “I think I like Felix.” Changbin says passively, Minho giving him a look that screams how obvious Minho thinks it is.   
“You look at him a lot, I’m not surprised.” Minho says easily, smiling at him and nudging him with the shoulder he’s leaning on. Changbin whines high in his throat, pouting at Minho.   
“I mean it, he makes me nervous. He’s so forward and I’m so…” Changbin sighs.   
“Not forward?” Minho asks, leaning his head onto Changbin’s. “Shy?” Minho asks, Changbin’s head nodding against him. Minho hums. “If he makes it clear that he likes you, take confidence in it. I’ve seen the way he looks at you.” Minho thinks he sounds like Hyunjin and Felix spouting confidence at him. He thinks he’s taken in enough of the same message to relay the nice words.   
“I’m not used to it, I guess.” Changbin says, clicking his tongue against his teeth and sitting himself up. “He’s so sure of himself and so..” Changbin gestures. “Willing, I guess.” Changbin huffs. “I’m used to chasing after people and this feels like he wants to fuck once and that’s it.” Changbin says, Minho frowning at him a bit. That doesn’t seem like the Felix he knows at all.   
“I think he likes you. Like, likes you.” Minho says, glancing at Felix’s door to make sure he hasn’t been too loud. “I say go in there and figure it out.” Minho says in an almost smug tone, Changbin nodding at the thought of swallowing his fears. “Just don’t overthink it, you know?”   
Changbin hums at the advice, turning the television on and sighing.   
“It’s good to have you back, Minho.” he says softly, patting Minho’s leg and leaning his weight against him. Minho smiles, thinking about Changbin’s wording. Had he been gone? Minho thinks that in a way he must have been, that in some ways he had been so entirely unlike himself that it must have felt like he had left, too. Minho lets his smile fade for a moment before letting it return, remembering that he is here now. He is here, he is the closest to normal he has been in a long time and his friends are happy about it. Han is happy about it. He is here, finally - completely.   
Changbin returns to his room after a shared comfortable silence, smiling at Minho lazily before sneaking back to Felix’s door and tiptoeing his way in. Minho feels good about it. Good about the day. Good about the future and the days to come.


	14. Day 6

Day six is a lazy one. Slow packing in preparation to leave, a lot more soft and sad looks between Han and Felix because of the anticipation of separating. There are a lot of things Minho notices between Felix and Changbin, the subtle touches and the sad stares. More so than between anyone else. Minho hopes Changbin decided to say something to Felix, anything so that their tension could be relieved. Minho knows all too well what the waiting and uncertainty of knowing feels like. There are moments between everyone that has him reeling, drowning in the fact that no one really wants to leave whatsoever.   
There is rain tapping away on the roof and onto the balcony. There is a humidity in the air that continues to drag down the mood and energy of them all, but they can at least all agree on leaving the balcony screen door exposed for the fresh smells of wet earth to fill the apartment. It’s nice. Minho will miss it.   
Felix had decided that the best way to bond on their last real day together would be to play a card game. There are questions on the cards or cards that say to ask another player, and so the boys gathered in a circle on the floor while the soft breeze from outside threatened to blow loose cards away. Felix chooses the first card.   
The card asks Felix about one of his favorite childhood memories, to which he easily responds with ‘meeting Han for the first time.’ Han chides him for not truly being a child then, but Felix holds his stance. Minho can relate to Felix in that regard. The next card goes to Hyunjin, who picks it up with a bit of hesitation and a nervous glance at the others. He reads the card aloud, breaking into a fit of giggles while doing so. The card asks him if he’s ever been in love. Although he laughs, he shakes his head a bit too quickly to be believable. No one questions him.   
Changbin is next, reading aloud that he has to ‘ask someone what he means to them in five words or less.’ Changbin immediately looks to Felix, who seems to have expected such a reaction. Felix gives him a smile, patting his leg while reaching over the deck of cards and stopping to think.   
“You remind me to breathe.” Felix says carefully, counting out each word on his fingers and looking back at Changbin with a look that asks if that was okay. Changbin doesn’t look okay. He puts the card down.   
Han is after Changbin, closing his eyes and lifting the card pile up to draw from the middle of the deck. He opens his eyes and reads. He tells them that it says to read the card in his head, and there is a small moment of silence while he does so. Han looks at Minho, then around the circle and lets out a sigh. He passes the card to Minho.   
Written in white lettering on the red card, it says ‘say nothing, pass this card to the person in the room who means the most to you.’ The two of them share a look, Minho smiles coyly before drawing his own card.   
The cards brought out a plethora of information, Minho learning that Hyunjin hates the dark and that Changbin’s least favorite thing about himself is his height. He learns that Han’s dying words would be ‘remember me, you fucks,’ if he had a choice and he learns that when he had to share about his near-death experience (the card had asked if he had one to tell the story,) it hadn’t gained as heavy of a reaction as when he had only looked at Han in response to the worst thing that’s happened to him. They all knew. Han had looked at him for a moment, putting two and two together. He had taken the card from Minho and tossed it into the discard pile, leaning forward to gently connect their lips in front of everyone in the room. Minho had smiled into the kiss, the room had erupted into cheers and screams, both of them had been tackled to the ground and shaken in excitement. Minho had learned a lot from the cards.   
They laughed a lot after that, everyone just happy to be surrounded by the others in the room.   
The lingering happiness faded, though, when the lights went out and Minho was left to his wandering mind. They would be leaving soon, and although Han hadn’t been giving all of his attention to Minho, they were together every day. Minho doesn’t want to go back to how they were before. He doesn’t want to have to worry about his appointments again, doesn’t want to have to plan time for Han. He doesn’t want to go back to his house alone. His mind draws him back to the cards - but instead of the nice interactions, it reminds him of his retelling of being stung. He summed it up to them. ‘I was in the attic. I got stung. Epipen was expired, I called an ambulance and then I called Han.’ Minho neglected to tell them much more than that.   
He doesn’t want to fall back into frantic texts. He knows that that is what the therapy is for. Minho feels like he’s leaving. Minho convinces himself that he isn’t. He wills himself to fall asleep. Minho doesn’t dream at first. It’s all quiet, until he suddenly sees himself in the attic.  
He is itchy all over again, his breathing is shallow. Why is this happening again? He tries to cough and loosen his throat, turning onto his hands and knees. He needs to call Han. He sputters a breath when the phone goes right to voicemail. This isn’t happening. The room is spinning again. He tucks his head to his chest. Minho dials again. It rings this time, Minho feels his heart in his ears.  
“Hello?” Minho smiles weakly, everything terrible happening to his body seeming to go away at the one word. He cries, moving his head closer to the phone.   
“Han Jisung.” Minho struggles, wheezing quietly into the phone. This is what he needed, for so long he’s wanted nothing more than to hear Han again.   
“Hyung,” Han says, sounding excited and concerned all at once. He has always been so expressive with his voice. Minho closes his eyes.   
“Stung.” Minho says, a weak, choked off chuckle escaping him. He hears Han talking to him. This is it.   
“Call someone else.” Han snaps, the line going dead. Minho’s heart weighs him down. He calls again. Straight to voicemail. Again. No answer. Minho sobs his remaining breaths away. 

He wakes up with a gasp, jolting up and hiccuping through tears.   
He clings to the couch, running his fingers over it and gripping it to make sure it’s real. He’s here. It wasn’t real. It was just a dream. He rubs his face against his bare arm, fading phantom itching on his face making him whimper. He’s sensitive. He needs someone. He bundles his pillow under his arm, hugging it to his chest in an attempt to ease himself back to baseline. But the pillow isn’t warm. The pillow doesn’t move with shallow breaths or hug him back. Minho sniffles and pushes himself to stand. The room sways. He quietly shuffles into the hallway, just barely tapping his knuckles on the door hiding the others away. Minho hopes they’re still there.   
Shuffling behind the door makes Minho’s lip tremble. He’s here. Hyunjin is opening the door with a soft creak and he is looking at him with tired eyes. Minho sniffles again.   
“You okay?” He rasps. Minho feels like he’s falling for him. He is here, right when Minho needs him to be. It wouldn’t be the first time. Minho’s foggy mind shows him the fuzzy memory of kissing Hyunjin. He feels his throat closing again.   
“No,” Minho whispers, choking off and sounding forced. He clears his throat and bows his head. Hyunjin steps aside to open the door.   
“Come sleep with us.” Hyunjin says easily, holding his back as he enters through the doorway. Han is on the bed, Minho’s eyes adjusting just enough to notice the boy half under the blanket and shirtless. He’s sprawled on his stomach, hugging the pillow under his head.   
“I can sleep on the floor,” Minho says, ready to drop his pillow. Hyunjin takes it from him, throwing it gently onto the bed between the two already laid out. Minho blushes.   
“You said you’re not okay.” Hyunjin says firmly, holding his wrist and pulling him into a hug. Minho blinks, his cheek pressed to Hyunjin’s bare collar bone. His fingers thread into the soft fabric of his thin shirt, once again running the material under his fingers. He’s here. Hyunjin is here. Han is here, too. Minho feels dizzy again.   
Hyunjin lets him crawl in first, Minho lying to face a sleeping Han Jisung and letting the darkness hide his staring. He feels like he’s been here before. Hyunjin crawls in behind him, wrapping an arm over Minho’s side to hold onto Han’s shoulder. Han stirs with a small noise, one eye peeking open and looking over Minho’s face. He smiles. Minho feels small.   
“Hey stranger,” Minho feels like one. “Can’t sleep?” Han rasps, bringing a thumb up to brush Minho’s cheek. He just shakes his head weakly. Hyunjin hums behind him, pulling Han by the arm to cage Minho between them. Minho feels warm. His back is snug to Hyunjin’s chest and Han is routinely rubbing his thumb along his cheekbone, and Minho is here.   
“I had a bad dream,” Minho admits quietly, holding on to the two hands resting on his side. “I got stung again.” He says. He can’t make himself stomach the rest of the confession. Han’s face softens, he assumes Hyunjin heard him as well by the way his arm tightens around him. The air around them settles heavy on their shoulders for a moment, Hyunjin pulling the blankets up over the three of them with a soft rustle and a cold spot on Minho’s side from the absence of his arm.   
Minho feels a pang of guilt for being so flustered between them, between two boys who just want to help him and put him at ease. He feels guilty for wanting to kiss both of them goodnight and he hates how his heart skips with every foreign touch that is mimicked by a second hand. He feels happy. Happy and warm and content to be here. He supposes it must just be his sensitive skin and his pumping heart that is feigning attraction.   
Hyunjin manages to nestle the top of Minho’s head beneath his chin, his long arms easily wrapping around the both of them. Han is doing the same, but his shorter arms only allow him to keep one hand on Hyunjin in the position they’ve put themselves in. Minho is safe. He is under a blanket and being protected by two people who care about him. He’s okay. Minho brushes his nose against Han’s, a lazy smile spreading along his face. Minho smiles too, humming an apology to Hyunjin when he whines about Minho moving so much. Han chuckles at the interaction, a yawn blowing through his nose and his eyes closing softly. Minho still looks at him. He watches as his eyes slowly begin to move behind his eyelids, his chest expanding slower and slower as his breathing gets shallow. Minho looks at the way his smile is still lingering, one corner of his mouth still lifted. Minho doesn’t know how long he stays awake, doesn’t know how long it’s been since the others fell asleep. He knows that he feels Hyunjin’s hand find Han’s, and he knows that Hyunjin pulls the three of them closer in doing so. Minho smiles. His eyes close with a yawn, his heart full and his fear long forgotten. He is here.


	15. Day 7

Day seven feels like it's taken no time to come. It feels like it's been a lifetime in the making, and every head is hung in silence on the way to the airport. Their flight was early, so most goodbyes were in the form of day six's discussions. Han and Felix are in the front seats, the others with headphones or drifting back to sleep as the sun rises. The music is quiet and ambient noise at best, only the wheels on the pavement supplementing for silence during the beginning of the ride.   
"Felix," Han says, sounding hurt in more ways than one. "You know the offer is still up, right?" He asks, Felix nodding with a soft smile. "I mean it, once I find a place of my own I want you to stay with me. I miss you, you know." Han jabs a pointed finger into Felix's rib, his body jolting away. Felix swats at him. Han reminds him to keep both hands on the wheel.   
"Yeah, I miss you too." Felix says. Han doesn't think Felix realizes that he's said it in English, but Han understood. He knows about Felix's tendency to do that; switching to his native language whenever he struggles to find his words. He does it a lot when his mind is full. When his heart is heavy. Han frowns.   
"I was thinking of fighting for Honey's house. I at least need to get my stuff out and have a place to keep it." Han grumbles. Felix nods, humming a noise of approval and patting Han's leg where it's resting. "I was thinking of asking Minho." Han says. He sounds hesitant, almost guilty for saying such a thing. Felix smiles at him, though, and Han thinks that two suns may be rising today. 

Felix looks in the rear view mirror, checking to see if anyone may be awake. He finds a smirking Minho with his head half rested on the seat, his head tilted to expose his neck and doing nothing to hide his obvious satisfaction.  
"I'm sure he will gladly agree to that," Felix says. He watches Minho's smirk widen. Felix looks back to the road with his own grin.   
"I know he will," Han muses, unaware of the smirking boy behind him. "I'd love to stay with him once we've both leveled out after getting back." Han says. Minho feels his heart spike for a moment, remembering the comforts of Han and Hyunjin from mere hours ago. He wants to feel better.   
"I couldn't stay with you two though, I'd feel bad." Felix says. Han clicks his tongue to his teeth, letting out a small huff.   
"It may be better if we have a roommate for awhile. You know, in case..." Felix stops him with one hard nod. His eyes find Minho's again, this time one peeking open at him. Felix's eyebrow raises. Minho gives a small nod, his smile still present as he nuzzles against his own hand propped up by his elbow. His eyes close. Felix's attention returns to the road.   
Han's mind wanders to the first time he had met Felix. The first time they had seen each other in person, speaking choppy bits of two languages wherever their young minds could. Hugging tightly and laughing over miscommunications, Han supposes they are the same now as then.

The flight is quiet, Minho leaning over an airplane window with his eyes on the clouds. Han sleeps, Hyunjin and Changbin curl into each other in the seats ahead. He sleeps to pass the time.  
The car ride to drop Minho off at the big, old, empty house is quiet too. No one really has the energy to say much. Minho jumps out of the car with a small wave and turns to leave with his bags, Han grabbing his arm. Minho turns to be met with a kiss on the forehead, and walks away blushing. He stands with his keys in his hands on the porch, watching Hyunjin back the car up enough to turn and leave the lengthy driveway. Minho always wonders how he avoids all the trees. When the brake lights turn off and the car pulls away and down a side road, Minho can finally go inside with a soft smile and another wave.


	16. Beginning of the End

Minho does well with his appointments. He keeps in good contact with the others, returning to work shortly after getting back home. He sees Changbin often, and the two of them started eating on breaks together again. It had been a messy suggestion, Minho sitting in the back room with a sandwich cut in half on the table. He had a stool to rest his feet on, coincidentally, and didn't mind sliding the stool as well as half of the sandwich to Changbin. Changbin had smiled, sat with him and even bought them snacks to share on their next break.  
Han kept his schedule, visiting twice a week until they got approved for Han to move out of the apartment. Minho had gone with him to Honey's house, the inside dusty and the air stale. He had helped Han gingerly place Honey's tea set into boxes after wrapping them in newspaper. He followed him into Honey's studio, open paint lids dried onto the table and an unfinished landscape filled canvas sitting atop a spider-webbed easel. He gathered Han's precisely folded clothes into a box, only taking items he hoped would still fit him. Shoes, hoodies, eventually taking down his decorative lights and the occasional poster.  
Minho runs his hands over the dusty covers, smiling at Han when he asks him if he's ready to go, now. Minho nods, lifting Han's shirt to wipe his teary eyes, Han laughing at him and swatting his hand away. He says something about just wanting to lift his shirt, and Minho hums at him on his way out the door.   
The truck gets put to good use again, making frequent trips to the lakes around them before the temperature cools. The four of them laugh and push each other off the dock, and Minho doesn't wear a shirt. He attends Changbin's workouts in the gym a few times a week, and soon Hyunjin started coming, too. Not nearly as much, since he's still doing dance, but enough that Minho is still happy to see him. Minho tells Han one night, in the attic under the fake stars as well as the real ones that yeah, Changbin is a little bit of a hard ass. Han's laugh carries into the wind running through the window and into the stars, Minho hopes Honey can hear him.  
On Minho’s birthday, after a day of raking and a dinner fit for kings, Han kisses him. It’s different from others they’ve had. It’s sweeter and thick, like the frosting on Minho’s cake. He kisses him slowly, telling him in the light of the changing LEDs they hung in their bedroom that he’s ready. Minho is confused at first, staring at Han dumbly before Han blurted out his messy confession of wanting to date. Officially, with titles and terms of endearment galore. Minho’s lips had been swollen for a while after that. 

During the winter, because Felix had been so keen to see snow, the two of them packed up to pick up Felix and all of his travel-safe belongings - the rest would arrive within the week. They had many outings in the snow, many snowball fights and maybe one too many sledding accidents. One of them left Felix with a scar over his eyebrow, and yes, he still assures them that it looks cool. It does little to stop them from apologizing about the whole thing.   
Felix would crawl into bed with them occasionally, knocking quietly on their door and shuffling in with hooded eyes. Minho had been grumpy about it the first few times, Han reprimanding him and telling him that if cuddles are needed, cuddles are given. They fell into a habit of just inviting Felix to lay with them during his hard days. They don’t talk about how frequent it becomes when Felix starts working, and nor do they talk about when he stopped doing it all together a few weeks after that when Han had heard that two of his best friends were dating. Minho still laughs at the lecture Han gave him, gasping about the fact that they started fooling around way back in Australia. Felix is still smug about it, to this day. Minho still denies knowing anything about it.   
In the spring, the roses bloomed once more. The lawn erupted with bursts of red, and Han would always come riding home on his bike despite Minho insisting that he is still more than capable of driving him. Han always thanks him, swiping their noses together and simply telling him that he prefers it that way.   
The next summer, Felix moves out. He finds an apartment with Changbin, and Minho feels so scattered and so full all at once. So many things were changing, and he was overwhelmed by every emotion that hit him. Han eased him through it, as he always does, and then proceeded to get more confident with every passing day that they came home to no third person.   
He would linger, knowing about every glance made at him whenever he would come out in a towel after showering. He would find excuses to not wear clothes, excuses to touch Minho and excuses to have Minho touch him. Minho happily played innocently along, wanting Han to ask for what he wants rather than push any long-lasting limits that may still be around. That day came sooner than Minho had expected it to.   
It had been on a regular day, where they woke up lazily and spent a long time just enjoying the closeness. They had kissed, aimlessly ran their hands along the other with the sun tinting everything a golden hue. Han’s hair had faded back to normal by then, the dark brown absorbing the heat in the room and making them both sweat.   
“I’m asking,” Han had whispered. “I’m begging, actually,” he had clarified. Minho had been happy to agree.   
They had gone slowly, taking in every moment as it came and indulging in Han’s progress. They didn’t have much to remove from their bodies, so they had lazily discarded their few clothes off the side of the bed and let their hands roam. When Han needed the occasional moment to calm himself out of a potential panic, Minho would kiss him sweetly and assure him that they don’t need to do anything more.   
They did, though, they both wanted to and felt comfortable with however long it would take to get there. They had smiled through the pauses, Minho had praised Han with every few thrusts and kissed his face whenever his neck would arch in time with his back. They had let their sweaty limbs tangle up in each other, and their breaths mingle between soft pants fanning over their faces.   
They were happy, and more importantly they were there. They were together and moving in rhythms that they would eventually grow fond of, and they got into the habit of rather quickly of showing the stars in the attic what love is like here on earth. They don’t admit to thinking the lights shine brighter both inside and out of the house whenever they would let themselves be overcome by the other. They don’t have to, they each know; the weight of feeling right settles into their bones every time the bed creaks. They wouldn’t have it any other way. 

On Han’s birthday, somewhere down the line, Minho was ready to take him up on his words from Australia. Minho had bought a ring, consulting his best friends about his fears and once again being supported by everyone that cares about him. They helped him plan the night, all of them going to the diner where it all began and laughing at Han’s flushed face when they joked about having the staff sing happy birthday. They didn’t, though, they just let Minho out of the booth so he could properly kneel down on one knee and hold Han’s hands under the table.  
“I’m asking,” Minho had said, smiling up at the wide eyed love of his life and having to clear his throat. “I’ve only got the rest of either your life or mine to make up for lost time.” He chuckled wetly, wiping tears on his sleeve and holding out a small box. Han just stared at him for a moment, blinking slowly until his head nodded and his smile broke the shocked expression. Minho still picks on him, how he should have known it was going to happen eventually. Han always scoffs at him and fiddles with the heavy ring on his left hand, reaching over to kiss where Minho’s ring sits and telling him that he thought it was a dream at first. They each still have their moments of thinking that things are too good to be true. Han still has the occasional nightmare and needs his space before coming back to bed. Minho happily deals with it, though. Because Han is here, Han came back and never once forgot about him. Minho can tolerate the nights in the bathroom where he helps Han shower away the bad dreams and lets them spin down the drain along with the soap from his body. Minho doesn’t mind any of it.


	17. Storm by Koethe

The day of the wedding came faster than either of them expected it to. It had been in the fall, so that Minho wouldn’t have to worry about any bugs threatening him at the venue. White chairs sat in lines on the grass, entwined and held together by fake vines and the occasional flower for reserved seats. Minho’s parents came, sitting in the front and smiling at him as he stood anxiously at the front. In the row where Han’s parents would have sat was Hyunjin, Felix, Changbin and even Chan flew out to join in the celebration. They all looked on with dopey grins and the occasional thumbs up whenever they would notice Minho tugging at his suit sleeves. Minho stood under a small gazebo, also filled with vines and lined with daisies and roses. His tie had been a dark blue and his eyes held every star that he and Han had ever found through the telescope. 

The sun was hot on Minho’s covered skin, the nerves and thick material fighting against the occasional soft breeze that would bring colored leaves onto the path that Han Jisung would walk down on his way to a new life. Minho watched with teary eyes as Han walked down the aisle alone, carrying a framed photo of himself and Honey - Minho wasn’t about to tell him he couldn’t. Han still smiled at him, nonetheless, placing the photo on an open chair at the front - unoccupied other than the single red rose on the seat. No one commented when he lingered to look at it, turning back to Minho and taking his place in the gazebo.  
Sniffles were heard from their friends and family during their vows, each of them needing to take their own moment to collect themselves before speaking.  
“Lee Minho, I promise you that I’m not leaving anymore. I will never leave your side again. I promise to always check the attic during the summer, I promise to help you with any projects and I promise to water the roses whenever you can’t,” Han had said, Minho chuckling with a tight throat and wet cheeks. “I promise to continue being your friend first. I will choose you every time. I promise to continue bettering myself for the sake of our future.” Han had sniffled. The guests did, too. “I remember when we first met,” Han had smiled then. “I don’t think I ever told you, but I was actually planning on moving out. I was going to find my own place an hour away and never look back.” Han admitted, Minho’s eyes raising to the sky and blinking away tears. “I want to spend every moment I have left with you. I want to go through the hard times with you at my side and work through them together. We’ve already done it once,” Han had grinned. Minho broke a smile, too. “I wrote you a letter once. I told you that if I wasn’t going to see you again in this life, I was hopeful for the next one.” Han’s lip trembled. “I still want that. I want to find you in every lifetime until we inevitably watch the world end; I don’t think I would be afraid as long as you are with me.” Han sniffles again. “I am so, so in love with you. I’m ready for anything as long as you are.” 

“Han Jisung,” Minho had started, separating each syllable to extend the moment. Han had giggled, his tears falling as his eyes wrinkled into two moons. Minho had to look back down at his paper to collect himself. “When you were gone, I didn’t know what to do with myself.” Minho had said, chuckling a bit and glancing to his tissue using friends. They nod at him with sad smiles. “I almost died. I called you, and when you answered,” Minho sighed at the memory. “It felt like nothing was wrong anymore. I listened to your voice and it suddenly didn’t hurt. I was ready to go,” His voice cracked. Han had been crying heavily at that point. “And then I didn’t, I didn’t have to wait for the next life to find you again. Honestly, though, getting out of the hospital felt like it was the first day of my life. I knew you were back. I knew you cared. I knew that-” Minho had choked up for a moment, Han promptly reaching out to rub his shoulder. “I knew that you were worth waiting for as soon as I heard you on that phone.” Minho had wiped his eyes and taken a breath, whispering an apology to the onlookers who were in a similar state. “I promise to always look for you in the stars. I promise to replant the roses every year and to build you forts when you’re sad.” Han had smiled. Minho met his eyes. “I promise to let you taste the food before it’s finished. I promise to let you win a few games once in a while.” Everyone chuckled at that. “I promise to never stop loving you. I have never loved anything the way I adore you, Jisung.”  
“Me for you,” Han had whispered. They both grinned, exchanging rings and soon after being told to kiss their way into a new journey together. One where nobody leaves, where nobody is forced into silence or expected to hide anymore. 

And they did, in front of a cheering crowd of the people who care for them most. Those who could be there physically as well as those who couldn’t. Confetti and flower petals were thrown over their heads as they left the gazebo together, hand in hand with smiles plastered on their faces and their chests full of too many emotions to place.  
The boys met Minho’s parents, and they all sat together at a large table. They had fed each other cake, linking arms and intentionally trying to make the other get frosting on their face. They made a toast to the boys at their table, thanking them for their patience and help over the years. How many had it been since Australia? Minho thinks three. The sun sets on them, star shaped lights lining the venue and illuminating the makeshift dance floor. Minho and Han have always had similar music tastes, and so songs they both love were played through large speakers while everyone raised their glasses for the first dance. It wasn’t a slow song, and they quickly roped in the others to join them simply out of principal. The fake stars hung around everyone they cared for and everyone that cared for them. The real stars shone a little brighter that night, and Minho had promised Han that it was Honey smiling down on them. Han was easily convinced, telling Minho that if she’s watching that they might as well dance a little extra to put on a show. Minho couldn’t pretend to be annoyed. He couldn’t pretend to be shy. So, they danced. Everyone did, and the celebration carried into the morning of the first day of their new life. The music had stopped, and Minho, Han, Felix, Chan, Hyunjin and Changbin sat together on top of the gazebo with their ties undone, sleeves rolled and hair sticking to their foreheads. They watched the sun rise, feeling the warmth of the day wash over them slowly, and they parted only after Han and Minho assured them that they were all sleeping over at their house. They didn’t have to leave for their honeymoon - to Australia - until the next day and they’d been packed for weeks. They were here. All in the same place again, older yet the same as they’ve always been. They were together, they were starting something new and they were doing it with the promise of sticking together as the years intended to pass them.


	18. Sweet like Honey

Han Jisung sits in a graveyard, laying down a bouquet of roses and smiling fondly at the stone in front of him. He tightens his hands together, sliding his sleeve up to show a tattoo over faded scars.   
“I got this for you,” He says to the open air. He runs his fingers over the faded ink, his wedding band catching the light as he does so. He smiles. His fingers trace the lettering over his arm, the thin script reading a simple ‘honey’ with a rose stem underlining it and a blooming flower beside the name. “A lot has happened since I last saw you, huh?” He says, shifting to sit in the grass with his legs crossed. “I got married, you know,” He smiles. “To the boy you told me to chase after. I guess you have amazing intuition, Gram,” He muses. He takes a lighter from his pocket, lighting the colorful candle beside his feet. “I help him with the houses, now, actually. My friend Felix lived with us for a while. You remember him, don’t you?” He asks. A passing breeze counts as an answer in his mind. “He’s moving into a house we fixed up with his fiance pretty soon, actually.” Han adds. He chuckles at the thought - he had met Felix so many years ago, now. Birds chirp in the distance and Han likes to think that Honey may be laughing, too. “Sydney is still kicking, somehow,” Han says with a laugh. “She’s feisty like you were, even though she’s getting old. Minho likes to pretend that he doesn’t adore her as much as he actually does.” He says, pulling out his phone and showing the stone a photo Han had secretly taken of Minho napping with said feline. The birds chirp again. “We still live in the same house, it’s weird to think that my parents were living there when they were married too.” Han says, closing his phone and putting it back in his pocket. “I hope there’s not a curse on it, since they ended up divorcing,” He chuckles. His face falls a bit, though. “I really miss you, you know,” He says, tracing the engraved letters in front of him. “I can’t thank you enough for raising me. I wouldn’t be who I am without you.” He says, his voice shaking. “I know I tell you that every time I visit, but I meant it and I need you to know it. So you better be listening!” He raises his voice, looking up at the sun shining through the trees. He sniffles and smiles again, setting down a small polaroid and securing it beneath the heavy candle. It’s of himself and Minho, posing with his and Minho’s hand covered in paint and a rainbow mailbox between them, now dawning two white handprints. He and Minho had stolen it from the property before it was sold - neither of them were willing to let it go. It sits proudly at the end of their driveway, with their initials carved into the wooden post it sits on.   
A hand slides over Han’s shoulder, making him look up from his seated position. Minho smiles down at him, giving his shoulder a comforting squeeze. Han’s hand finds Minho’s, Han smiling back up at him.   
“You ready to go?” He asks quietly. Han nods and pushes himself to stand, looking at the small toddler clinging to Minho’s side, bundled in a coat and colorful scarf. Han takes her from Minho, setting her to stand in front of the grave.   
“We call her Honey, too,” Han says to the stone. “Her real name is Rose.” Han says. Rose waves a mitten-covered hand at the silent stone, chiming a quiet ‘hi’ while Minho stands above them fondly, Han squatting to hold their daughter in place. Her hair is dark and spilling out of her knitted hat, courtesy of Minho’s new hobby. Han tells Rose to say goodbye, and she does - bending over on wobbly legs to kiss the smooth stone. Han picks her up again, adjusting his jacket as he does and bouncing her into place on his hip. “I’m ready now.” He says.   
“Alright,” Minho says softly. Minho waves to the stone as well, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “We’ll visit again soon, Honey.” He says. Rose looks at him expectantly, knowing the nickname arguably better than her real one. They both chuckle at that, Minho ruffling her hair and the hat on her head, stepping aside for Han to move first and holding his back as he does so. The sun shines. The birds sing, and the three of them look out of the telescope at the brightest star they can find that night.


	19. Two Hands Up - O.A.R (The End)

Rose grows up loved by her fathers and three uncles - her favorite being her uncle Hyunnie because of the similarities in the name. That and her fondness of practicing braids in his hair - fondness for him allowing her to. Rose blooms with the garden every spring, growing up on the same swing her father had as a child. Felix and Changbin were given the job of being godparents, which they happily accepted. On Rose’s sixth birthday, the boys show her the handmade bed they had put together for her, the posts able to hold small stars and butterflies to keep her dreams sweet and life sweeter. Everyone comes to the house for the small party, including Minho’s parents. Han doesn’t tell his parents about his new life. He never reaches out to them and vice versa.  
Hyunjin moves away from the town, finding a place with his own partner and starting new. Changbin and Felix happily take Rose on weekends where Minho and Han need to travel to projects. Chan visits every year or so, always bringing Felix and Rose shells from the beach and a mind full of stories for the both of them.  
Eventually, Changbin and Felix adopt as well. They adopt out of Australia, going to visit the mother and baby boy for two months before they are cleared to bring him home. Minho and Han become his godparents without needing to be asked twice. Their lives go on. Things continue to change, but never their affections for the family they all built with one another. When Rose is old enough to understand, Han and Minho add her handprint and initial to the mailbox. They are here. They are happy. They make things work and they have no regrets. They find out that the house is not cursed after all, unless you count the curse of wasp nests in the summer.  
Minho tries to get rid of them every year, and every year without fail Jisung will step in.  
“That stuff isn’t good for them,” He says. “It kills them, they kill you, let me take care of it.” He teases. Without fail, Minho will smile at him. He will think of the thin boy at the gas station with an apron tied around his small waist. Every year on Rose’s birthday, they go to the diner. Han always draws their faces on the chalkboard, and Minho is happy with never having to sit alone at a booth again.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, we all okay out there? Bit of a whirlwind if you ask me. 
> 
> While this may be the ending of the main series, there is still the ChangLix spinoff titled Taking Flight that is in the works. I will add it to the Love and Paint collection just for the sake of keeping things together. I'm sorry this took so long to push out, but honestly, I was never anticipating actually making this plot a two part series until I felt the need to resolve every conflict I created. 
> 
> As promised, here are the links: 
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4DlrcHdm6K62isqBgfAvin?si=pz8A4SpOTieNrdowwhL8SQ
> 
> https://www.pinterest.com/campyoyoyo/embracing-the-swarm/
> 
> Feel free to leave feedback or to yell at me in the comments! I try to respond to everyone!  
> Reach out to me on Twitter! @/BangBiddies !


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